A Moment of Understanding
by Jonathan Watts
Summary: Upon witnessing Frankie suffer a massive breakdown, Goo meets with the lady in private... and learns that they may be soulmates. [Finished, with epilogue coming soon.]
1. Thunder and Lightning

Lightning struck, thunder boomed.

Deep within the bespectacled residence of Madame Foster's, a young dark-skinned girl rose from the exposed twin bed. At first, she aimlessly darted her head around, seeing nothing but abstract blur patterns tinged in hollow white and muddy brown firmly engraved into her eyesight, while mumbling incoherently.

Soon after, though, she came back to her senses. Wiping her eyes and taking a few firm blinks, things became clear: the white were the rusty interiors of what was the residence's main guest room, and the brown happened to be specks of shaggy hair belonging to a certain eight-year-old boy next to her.

"Mac." she said plainly, without turning to face him.

"Yes, Goo?" the boy responded.

Goo shrugged. "No, nothing."

She hunched back into the bed, staring in the opposite direction.

"I just thought..."

She trailed off with a barely-suppresed choke. Mac dropped down as well, and with great caution placed one of his arms across Goo's shoulder--even without looking at the boy's face, she could tell he was gravely concerned for her.

"It's just the weather." Mac said. "It's been getting nothing but worse the last few hours. The thunder woke you up, that's all..."

He delicately pressed his face just below her right ear, with a slightly scrunched expression intended to be both a smile and a frown. "You were asleep in my arms the whole time, and you're still with me. You have nothing to--"

Before the boy could finish, Goo spun around and, using her left arm, gave him a firm shove which almost knocked him down to the floor. Her soul flared with desperation and urgency, but only very briefly; when Mac shook off the surprise of being pushed away, he saw her once again with head hung sullenly low, the untied hair now covering much of her face.

"You got too close."

Mac's face went red. "I'm sorry, just wanted to check on you..." a mild chuckle arose from his lips, but it instantly vanished when he saw she wasn't returning it.

"Look, Mac," Goo sighed sharply. "It's not the weather I'm talking about. It's--"

And her voice trailed off again. Mac's face could no longer remained mixed; with direct somberness, he latched onto both of her hands and tugged her face straight up--it was here that they at last met eye-to-eye.

The gaze was brief but everlasting. Mac saw a poor, vulnerable little girl with wrinkles of torment across her innocent face. Goo saw a kind boy her same age, yet with uncommon maturity and a sincere desire to help out others. They were both pained and fractured.

"It's Frankie, isn't it."

_Frankie_. The very uttering of that word arrived with all the force of an asteroid. Those seven letters... they swirled sickly through her frail mind, punctuated with blurs of a young woman with red hair--and that very unfortunate encounter..

- - -

_"Frances, I--"_

_"Please tell me. How can I be selfish if this is the best I can manage after all my years of effort? All my dreams, all my ambitions, all those degrees I've gotten and all those I wanted, my future--AND I'M SPENDING IT AS YOUR SLAVE, IN THIS GODFORSAKEN SHITHOLE!"_

_"Que!"_

_"Oh dear..."_

_"For the love of god, please stop, they're here--"_

_"No, do let them hear us. It'd be pretty tragic if your wonderful imaginary friends never learn the truth about yours truly. Which is what I'll do right now: THANKS FOR NOTHING, YOU UNGRATEFUL BUMS!"_

_"Frankie, please--"_

_"But feel free to kick me out, and feel free to permanently deny I was ever your granddaughter. Just don't be surprised if this joint then goes bankrupt and you're forced to join me on the streets, JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE INCAPABLE OF DEALING WITH ABOUT SEVEN HUNDRED CRETINS CREATED BY SOME STUPID RETARDED GIRL!"_

- - -

Goo found it impossible to speak, much less shake off those memories. She folded both of her arms at shoulder level and shrivelled frantically, and her eyes grew wishy-washy once more. Her frail body began tipping face first into the rugged mattress, but was interrupted by the boy's hands--which promptly clasped around her tummy, very tightly and for a few good seconds.

When they finally pulled off, Mac saw tears streaming down her face.

"I guess I should tell you this right now." he began. "Goo... Frankie is not a bad person."

Goo winced without speaking, and Mac could tell she had trouble believing those last few words. Nonetheless, he continued.

"Far from it. Frankie's the sole caretaker of this entire place; she's always working her back off, without any time for fun... and she's like a big sister to me. Very kind to me ever since I arrived, far more than my ignorant mother or jerk brother combined. She just tends to get stressed out; Mr. Herriman's oppresive attitude doesn't help much."

Utter silence. The boy grew weary.

"Frankie hasn't had it spectacularly well as of late. And I don't just mean your--no offense, but your overactive imagination. That punk McGee... the whole fiasco over the tickets to Europe..." he snorted scornfully. "How would you feel if you'd also have to deal with seven-hundred imaginary beings?"

Still no response from Goo. Mac threw his arms up and turned towards her with the index finger raised, about to speak in a far more firm tone--but nothing came out of his wide-opened mouth. Internally diffusing, he scrunched up and writhed in defeat.

"Look, Goo." he sighed. "What I'm trying to say is, and feel free to reject it if you want, but--" he was about to finish when he felt a familiar hand land softly across his mouth. If marginally, Mac felt the iron clench in his heart loosen when she saw the girl carrying a faint smile.

"That me and Frankie have a bit in common."


	2. On Thin Ice

Goo strolled through the second-floor hallway of the Foster's house, her untied locks of hair veiling what was the world's worth of sorrow and sadness. The last twelve hours had been among the most taxing of her young life; the day began so harmless and innocently too.

She still vividly remembered her last words before fleeing the guest room: _Would you mind if I went for a walk around the place? I'll be back in a little while... I promise you, I won't do anything funny... oh thank you, Mac, you're such a sweet boy..._

That "little while" turned out to be a half-hour; and she wasn't so much stretching her legs as she was frantically looking for a certain lady.

Frankie... she was nowhere to be found. By now, Goo stubbornly realized that this "secret plan" wasn't much of a good idea. She'd looked into all the open places she could, hoping to somehow find her, or at least find clues about her current whereabouts, but with absolutely no luck. Thankfully, she hadn't run into anybody else yet, which would've gotten her into serious trouble--unfortunately, that meant they were within their own rooms and thus, her search was greatly limited.

Not that the woman would be in somebody else's room anyway. Not with the current circumstances.

Her sigh synchronized chillingly with the latest round of lightning and thunder. Upon realizing, she felt as if her spine was pierced by multiple stone cold daggers. At least the lightning served to illuminate the otherwise unlit house; something she was greatly thanking as she now found herself before the central staircase.

Goo grimaced--this was where the "meeting" between the staff turned into a war of inflated egos. Even in the dark, she spotted all the unsavory details: gaping nail scratches in the handles, unremovable wine stains sprawled down the steps and, worst of all, specks of multicolored hair belonging to one of the many friends created by her, accentuated by a unnaturally large leather leash still loose across the floor.

She set down the stairs, slowly yet also darting her eyes to make sure nobody else was around. Step by step, Goo remembered the unfortunate encounter with increasingly painful clarity: the victorian rabbit going from confrontational to cowardly, the old lady's vain whimpers for sanity and Frankie's vicious, hatefilled snarls.

_"...NOT MY FAULT I HAD TO GO SHOPPING AFTER THEY ATE EVERYTHING..."_

_"...MISS FRANCES THIS, MISS FRANCES THAT, 'OH MISS FRANCES, ..."_

_"...GOT SOME NERVE--YOU SHOULD BE PUNISHED FOR WHAT YOU PULLED..."_

_"...SPENDING IT AS YOUR SLAVE, IN THIS GODFORSAKEN SHITHOLE..."_

_"...CRETINS CREATED BY SOME RETARDED GIRL..."_

Halfway down, her mind drifted to hiding in the abandoned guest room next to that particular boy, at the time crying so hard that he had no opportunity to speak... she had drifted into sleep, which she woke up from thanks to the nasty weather. As she finally reached floor level, Goo remembered what he had to say afterwards:

_"Frankie is not a bad person."_

Instantly afterwards, she recalled the woman's last few words. _Retarded girl_.

The girl stalled; her limbs locked together, her body whimpering and eyes clamped shut, vainly trying to not cry--but when she at last exhaled, tears didn't come instead, instead arose small yet hurried bursts of air, firm and burning with contempt, and her once-loving soul now grew as cold as the rain. It was here she realized she wasn't sad, or mournful anymore.

She was furious.

Goo scoffed as she strode through the spacious main hall. Not a bad person! How could Mac lie to her like that? Even from the very beginning, she realized Frankie was... well, an oddball to put it kindly. Fresh still was the fierce clawing of her nails upon her fragile skin when she was originally seized and booted from the house, and she'd secretly overheard all the insults by her and Mr. Herriman in their berating of the boy--certainly not the "big sister that never was" he mentioned. She hadn't seen Frankie much in-between the waiving of the ban and the confrontation, but her expressions were less-than-amiable, and she'd feared it was a matter of time before her timer came to a halt.

Of course, Goo soon recalled that she'd made a certain statement after Mac's quasi-defense of the redhead finished; "that she and Frankie have a bit in common". After wandering around Foster's for a bit and after further contemplating those last few hours, it was clear it couldn't be any more untrue. To her, Frankie was quite frankly the nastiest and most unlikeable person she'd ever met.

And yet...

"Nasty" and "unlikeable" were constant terms used by other people to describe her. And no matter how much the seemingly-innocent exterior leads to believe otherwise, she'd return those ill sentiments by making equally insulting remarks behind their backs. And indeed, she'd been the oddball all her life.

Perhaps... Mac was right after all? Perhaps this Frankie _is_ a decent being?

Whatever was the case, Goo was now utterly regretting leaving the guest room. It wasn't even exactly her decision--she fell for the sincerity in the boy's tone, and lied about "waltzing around the house" hoping that she'd conveniently stumble upon the woman, make nice-nice and end this entire mess.

With a finalitive sigh, Goo returned towards the staircase and was making her way up...

"What's that?" She had barely reached the third rung when out barked a distant yet recognizable hare's voice from the second-floor hall.

Goo cursed.

- - -

"I've checked throughoughly, and there's nobody here."

"Hmmph. For a moment, I was thinking it was--well..."

"Frances?"

"Thinking and hoping. I'm worried, Herriman. She hasn't returned since leaving the house; and this weather is strong enough to kill anybody."

"I'm sure she's currently in a sheltered area; most likely the bus... that is, if she wants to shelter herself in the first place."

"Are you implying--"

"Well, Martha, no offense... but that could very well be the case. Your granddaughter was frightfully sincere in her anger. She could be anywhere by now."

"Oh please no... please, please, PLEASE tell me nothing's going to happen to her. Please--"

"Martha, I'd suggest looking at both sides. It's likely she's simply venting at a friend's house."

"Goddammit Herriman... how many times do I have to tell you, Frances has no outside friends to turn to! She's been distanced from most of her high school friends after graduating, and those few who remained abandoned her too."

"Well, she ocassionally mentions this Ashley girl--"

"They've broken up too. Frances told me about it a few days earlier--and in the most damning way possible. Apparently, Ashley took too much pleasure from her woes with that Canadian friend."

"Wow, that's... yeeesh..."

"Oh, I bet you're looking for a synonym for "unfortunate" that won't expose you as the century's biggest hypocrite."

"What! Don't tell me--"

"You know, she was really anticipating that concert."

"I, I, Martha, wait-- I'm the hypocrite? Why didn't you interfere then? I was doing my job; your granddaughter crossed the line with her antics, I made sure she paid for it. _You're_ the one telling me to always be harsh on her!"

"You're the one always telling me to make sure she doesn't end up like her father--LIKE YOUR SON!"

"WELL, IT MAY BE TOO LATE NOW!"

- - -

Goo stood outside the house, pressing against the icy fabric just below one of it's entrance windows, thankfully with a tarp over her to shear off the thick rain. She carefully inched upwards and glimpsed inside; her heart sank at what she witnessed.

The two figures--an anthropomorphic victorian rabbit and an old lady which happened to be her creator--were across the main hall, consumed by the darkness; and yet Goo could clearly read their expressions. And they were not happy at all.

The old lady's eyes welled with tears, her face looking as if she was carrying the brunt of the current weather. She approached the rabbit with index raised, but lowered her tone to a whisker--microscopic yet lethal in it's indecipherable husks. Shortly afterwards, they disappeared from the girl's eyesight.

Perfect timing, because Goo couldn't watch any more. She pried her gaze from the window and dove into the wilted scenery before her.

When she strolled up the exterior hills of the bespectacled residence with Mac next to him, it seemed so serene and beautiful, accentuated by the cloud's mild specks of water. Now as she made her way down, carrying an umbrella spontaneously taken from the entrance armory(She was at least thankful they didn't notice that there was one missing), the scenery was a wreck: the once-triumphant fauna was relentlessly beat into the soil, insects crawled around everywhere and the barriers surrounding the house were very grimy.

She, of course, knew who these two elders were: Mr. Herriman and Madame Foster, whom were two-thirds of the house's staff. However, this was the first time she'd seen either in such a state: the rabbit's sudden concern for very person she'd previously seen treat like a lackey, and the sweet lady's frightened screeching. It was very different from their fateful last encounter with the missing third... a giant departure.

At last, Goo stood before the gate entrance separating the adoption home and the outside world. Her self-loathing urges rose once again. _It's locked_, she growled to herself. The keys were clearly in the house, and that meant her "search" was about to come to a halt.

...or not.

As she aimlessly fiddled with the bars, she soon discovered the left side was considerably damaged and opened up--_wide_ open. Goo approached the vicinity and instantly noticed the details: two of the bars were bent outwards, leaving opportunity for anybody who wanted to enter. The surrounding bars didn't fare well either, containing everything from knuckle dents to deep nail scratches.

What caught her eye, however, was just outside: a giant but dingy public bus, the one she just heard Mr. Herriman mention. As if the weather's harshness wasn't enough, it's hull was riddled with more of those dents and scratches. Worse, glass shards were sprawled across the slippery cement sidewalk, some of it's windows half-shattered.

And inside was a twenty-two-year old lady with red hair and in a tattered green coat, sitting next to one of those broken windows.

Both hands were pressed against her face. She was crying.


	3. Nadir

"Frankie?"

The dark-skinned girl stood shyly before the battered bus, holding a rather large formal umbrella with one hand and the other knocking softly into the exterior hull. She gazed into the half-shattered side window, seeing her sparkling yet messy crimson hair; however, her head faced the opposite direction.

"Go away!" was her half-snarling, half-lamenting response.

"It's me. Goo."

"Oh, please..."

The young woman sank deep into her chair, hiding the red hair from view. Goo stood quietly for a few seconds, hoping for some sort of response, but nothing came.

It was here Goo realized things wouldn't be so easy.

Suddenly and quite boldly, she tossed the umbrella away. Goo had barely braced herself, falling to her knees upon the sudden jolt... and then swiftly rose back up, standing straight and facing the rain.

_Ready or not_, she thought as she prepared to march inside. _Here I come_.

- - -

Frances Foster stared into the dirty puddle's slurred reflection for a few seconds before returning to her fetal state on the bus. She knew well by now--this was the absolute nadir of her life.

_This is an illusion; I repeat, this is JUST ANOTHER FUCKING ILLUSION..._ her arms curled around the steel handle, making sure to briefly savor it's sub-zero chill before slowly hoisting herself to seating position. With a terse swagger of breath, she darted to her left and glanced through the opening she'd left on that particular window.

It was empty.

Literally instantly afterwards, she corked her head towards the bus' general direction. Nobody there.

Frankie slunked back into her seat. _It sure feels like it's been a while, wonder what time it is..._ the lady raised her right arm, pulled down the sleeve and glanced into her wristwatch--and saw that it was a garbled mess, remembering that it short-circuited due to prolonged exposure. Frothing savagely, she ripped it off and chucked it across the cramped portway.

"PIECE OF SH--" the right hand flew across her cheeks before she could finish. Frankie clawed both of them on her face and wept.

_Dear god, what am I becoming?_ She leant on the stiff seat, feeling uncomfortable but deriving great self-loathing satisfaction from it. _Alright... breathe deep, calm blue ocean... CALM, BLUE, OCEAN..._ she clamped her eyes as firmly shut as she could. She tried to ignore everything about her at the moment: the fact she was hiding on a crippled public bus, imprisioned by god's nocturnal tears, having forever soiled her reputation at her grandmother's famous little asylum for imaginary friends, behaving like the unconsolable monster she was being right now. Nuh-uh, none of this was happening.

Instead, she was eight years old again, free like a bird and innocent like a child should be... her parents were still alive, her social life was just starting instead of collapsing, and Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends was not her full-time workplace but instead this wonderful place she visited every day after school, run by her still-sweet grandma and full of joy and imagination. Yes, just a little girl...

"Frankie? Frankie?"

She pried them off, exposing those fountain eyes to that infernal girl called Goo.

- - -

They stared at one-another for seemingly the longest of times. Goo was still in the same clothes she wore when she first arrived, only they were obviously thickly wet and dripping, and her hair, once distinguished by those three dreadlocks, was completely loose and slimmed to near-ground level. But at least she seemed healthy; what the girl saw of the woman was nothing short of a wreck--her eyes were a bloodcurling red, her jacket quite foul-smelling, lips razor thin and a unsettingly skeletal frame.

"Why are you here?" said the young Foster gravely. "...what could you possibly _want_ from me?"

The words hung in the air before Goo responded. "Mac's been telling me about you." she closed in, a somber smile unfurling in her face. "He says you're not such a bad person."

Frankie let loose a dry hiss that was intended to be a scoff. "Really? Mac's only the most wonderful boy in the entire universe."

"And?"

"_And_?" she sighed. "He sees the good in everyone and everything! There's no better example than his undying loyalty to that miserable--" she abruptly pinched the softest area of the neck before finishing, jolting her back into the seat. "Oh you know; Bloo."

Frankie hunched down with a whimper, trying to veil the new batch of tears.

"Just like how grandma's remained with Herriman all her life."

Goo didn't speak for a while. She quietly inspected the bus' interiors--it was an even bigger disaster than from the outside. Shards big and small were scattered across the seats; the result of the damaged glass windows, many of them only-partially shattered and containing lethal spikes. Her eyes returned to Frankie, this time her arms--and cringed. They had been mostly covered by the long sleeves, yet she noticed rows of dry blood caked across both hands, as well as nasty bruises on her knees... which now diverted her attention to the floor, and quickly noticed that the puddle of water had a faint yellow tint. Her stomach winced; it was obvious it consisted of more than the rain's spillage.

She returned to Frankie once again... and try hard as she might, she felt not contempt but pity. Perhaps she was indeed a tad too loving, as some would say; but when she looked at her, she didn't see the supposed devil incarnate but instead a broken glass soul in dire need of mending.

The girl slowly inched towards her. "It sure must be awful."

Frankie pried off her hands in surprise. "Huh?"

"Living with so much hate inside." Goo said with a frown. "When was the last time you've been hugged?"

_What!_ She grew restless by the second. "Why are you still here? GET OUT!" And she arose with fresh furor, lurching towards the girl with clenched fists--

Only to feel two wet arms clasp warmly across her midsection.

- - -

Frankie stood there, speechless and shellshocked. She gawked at the sight below: the very person she had treated like trash from the very get-go, whom she'd tried to ban multiple times, dismissing as some psycho deserving to be in an institution, calling her brain-damaged in front of the entire Foster home--and she latched on like a daughter to her mother.

Both fists loosened and all her previous anger vanished. Pangs of guilt shot across the spine, feeling her cold demeanor melt. And albeit accompanied with an embarassed sigh, for the first time in the last seventy-two hours, a genuine smile formed around the woman's face.

"Goo, I..." Frankie began, but stopped once she saw Goo whimpering unintelligibly into her stomach. She gently pulled her off. "What is it you're trying to sa--"

"IT'S ALL MY FAULT!" the eight-year-old cried all of a sudden.

The redhead was stunned. "What do you mean?"

"CAN'T YOU SEE!" she snapped. "I should've never come to Foster's, YOU WOULDN'T BE LIKE THIS HAD I NEVER CREATED SO MANY IMAGINARY FRIENDS!"

"Huh, wait a min--"

"YOU HATE ME! RIGHTFULLY SO!"

Goo rocked violently across the bus, bawling openly. "Stupid, stupid, stupid..."

With great care, Frankie approached the girl and placed her left arm across her neck.

"Goo, Goo--GOO!"

The third did it. The girl momentarily halted her dramatic display, but she was still shriveling. "I'm so sorry, Frankie..."

The woman smiled. "It's ok. Just... let's sit down, please. I want to talk to you."

Frankie grabbed Goo by the hand, and escorted her to just some rows behind the driver's seat. She selected a seat whose window wasn't shattered--dusting it with her bare hands to ensure it had no scattered shards--and placed her there. Soon afterwards, she sat right next to her.

"I'm so sorry." she sniffed. "I truly am..."

Frankie wrapped her arms across the girl's neck, rocking her gently. "Goo..." she began. "No offense, but I don't think you've heard the full story--"

"Yes I have." Goo snapped.

"Well then, from who?"

"Mac." she said. "He told me about some person named McGee... say, it wouldn't happen to be Goofball John McGee?"

Frankie cocked an uneasy eyebrow. "You know him?"

"Unfortunately." she spat. "My parents were friends with his previous owners. I used to see him frequently; he's the biggest jerkface I've ever met... constantly used his human-like appearance to mooch off privileges forbidden from other, far kinder imaginary friends."

"Gee, that's..." Frankie didn't know whether to be sick or chuckle ironically. "It's interesting you say that, Goo; when he was here, I was trying to prove that he was indeed human."

"I suppose he was mooching off you as well."

Frankie sighed. "Yeah, he was misbehaving and thus caused me to miss some concert I really wanted to see--but in the end, I had it coming to myself. It was me who chose to try "expose" him when he was indeed imaginary." she stooped with a scowl. "'Fight fire with fire', as they say... in retrospect, I should've just used a nice bucketful of water."

Goo turned around, ashamed to look at the woman. "I'm so sorry..."

Frankie sighed and decided she'd seen enough; she gently but forcibly spun the girl back around and lined her with a firm face. "Look, Goo--and look at me in the eye. Listen to me, and very carefully, ok?"

Goo had no time to nod before Frankie finished taking in the deepest of breaths.

"IT'S NOT NOT NOT **NOT** YOUR FAULT!"

The ferocity of her voice rose up and beyond the weather's thick confines, enough to wake up not only the Foster residence but the entire surrounding city. And yet, even as Goo cowered into the bus' structure in fear, she saw that the redhead was more worried than angry.

"I'm the one who ought to be sorry." she said. "Please stop blaming yourself, you--"

"Seven hundred." Goo interjected.

Frankie pondered the number a little; her face went a shade red when she discovered it's embarassingly obvious meaning. "Your imaginary friends?"

"More like 'my stupid, worthless creations'." she sobbed. "Me and my stupid imagination overburdened you to the point of no return..."

The girl leant as far away from Frankie as she could, towards the stone cold window, her crying and whimpering smothered by the rain. She moaned as the redhead just huddled closer to her, affectionately rubbing her shoulders.

"Yeah, I suppose I was a bit pissed about the massive influx," she submitted somberly before regaining her composure. "But Goo, it wasn't just you. All you really did was... well, _accelerate_ my breakdown."

"Well then, McGee--"

"Oh, him?" she interrupted with a chuckle. "As much as he'd probably hate to admit it, he only sped things up as well."

Goo raised her mouth to speak, but nothing arose. Frankie rose from the seat and leant herself somewhat awkwardly against the window, right next to the girl.

"This isn't about these two things alone." she said with finality. "Even without what you and Goofball did, I would've still snapped regardless."

Those words boomed through Goo's fragile mind as she lurched back into the seat.

_Would've still snapped?_

"Frankie--"

She sobbed but, once again, did not finish. Frankie leant dearly close towards the girl.

"Goo..." she began, tenderly wiping the streams of tears in her face. "I don't hate you, nor do I hate your imaginary friends... and to the contrary, they are not worthless--nor is your imagination stupid."

"Bah, you called them cretins." Goo interrupted. "You... you called me a retard."

Frankie grimaced as she fumbled for words--she knew very well there wasn't an easy response to that.

"I... was angry." she said lamely. "When you're angry, you tend to do and say things that you don't mean."

Goo opened her mouth--the moment she noticed, Frankie placed a gentle yet firm hand blocking it.

"And for the very last time, I'm NOT angry at you." she said. "I'm--"

And she choked before finishing. Her flaky emerald eyes aimlessly darted out the glasspane, staring towards the aged victorian mansion that she barely noticed amidst the rain and beneath the gateway... her expression became regretful and wilted.

"You're angry at your grandmother and that bunny guy, then."

Frankie corked her head back inside, pausing to ponder what the girl just said. She was surprised at how quickly the kid regained her composure--

And soon after, the full extent of those last few words came harking to her.

_...angry at your grandmother and that bunny guy..._

Madame Foster and Mr. Herriman.

The twenty-two year old clamped her hazy eyes shut, vainly fighting back fresh tears. Two barely-recognizable blurs swirled sickly across her shattered psyche--a talking Victorian rabbit in tuxedo and the bespectacled old lady that had been her grandmother. Along with it came not months but years of bitter cries and anguished howls, all of them pertaining to her and her only... just seconds ago, she was pondering over how quickly the young newcomer regained her composure. Now--she was playing the unsettled one again.

Sagging back into the seat, she nodded in bitter defeat.

Goo carefully inched towards the hunched lady. "Mac told me about how you're taking care of the place all the time, that you never have much time for yourself... that Herriman's a jerk with you..."

Frankie didn't respond; she rocked softly and trancefully in feeble whimpers. The girl softly tugged at the filthy coat's sleeves, drawing Frankie's attention--pulling her into a fragile gaze.

"They don't appreciate you much, do they?"


	4. Behind the Devil's Eyes

_You don't know what it's been like_...

The 22-year-old Frances "Frankie" Foster lurched as she strode across the seemingly infinite halls of Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends. Exhausted by incredibly taxing recent events; as well as dulled by the endless hardship of her profession, she'd temporarily lost her grip on time and sense. She fumbled inside her brain, dizzyly wondering what time it was--when she could've simply raised her right arm and glance at the electronic watch. But she was out of it at the moment... so out of it that she thought the passive grip on her wrist was instead a leash dragging her into a most undesirable destination.

Ironically, also the only thing preventing her from accidentaly walking off a second-story window.

When the girl at last reached that destination--a sternly elegant office suite--she nary had time to speak when she felt a thick roar awash her eardrums.

"MISS FRANCES! EVEN MORE LATE THAN USUAL!"

"Herriman..." she whined--not even three seconds this time around. "I've been busy with the influx friends all day, can't--"

"NO EXCUSES, YOUNG MA'AM!" the hare roared. "Now sit down and we'll discuss current matters."

Frankie did as such--instantly afterwards, however, she directed a dirty glare towards Herriman. "'Current matters?' The only thing that "matters" right now is that we find owners for all these friends sooner instead of later; I'm leaving the entire place vulnerable by abandoning them like I did to come here..." she sighed. "Look, what do you want?"

"How about what I _don't_ want: SLOPPINESS AND NEGLIGENCE!"

The redhead grimaced. "What are you talking--"

"NUH-UH!" Herriman interjected. "You talk about how the house is prone by leaving them unguarded? Perhaps I shouldn't have called for your presence here, because quite frankly, the entire place is uninspired as it is!"

Any desire Frankie had to fend herself vanished when the hare shot from his chair and broke into a full-blown rant.

"DUST SPOTS AND UNWIPED STAINS EVERYWHERE! INSECTS CRAWLING AROUND THE BARE FOUNDATIONS! WOEFULLY SHORT ON FOOD..."

Frankie just sank in her chair, letting the hoarse voice grow wishy-washy of contemptful familiarity. Her fingers drummed aimlessly against the chair's carved handles as she locked eyes with Mr. Herriman's bloodshot eyes; the monocle did nothing to filter it's razor-sharp sparkle... the scream session lasted a good ninety seconds in real time--and simply "too long" in her altered state of consiousness.

"And what do you have to say for yourself?" he said at last.

"Huh... what? I--"

"UNATTENTIVE AS WELL!" the rabbit spat. "You didn't pay attention to a word I just said, did you?"

"Well, I know you're angry at me _again_." she said. "I don't need to be fully aware to your fanciful blathering to know--"

And she felt her own left arm soar across her cheeks. _Oh fuck fuck fuck FUCK_!

Frankie flinched into her seat when Herriman opened his mouth and wagged a furious finger at the lady... but instead of more screaming, the hare simply collected himself and waltzed around the desk, halting right in front of the chair in which the miniscule caretaker sat.

"Turn around, Miss Frances." he said in a frightening low tone, noticing that Frankie didn't change the direction of her eyes. "Look at me, right in the eye."

She did just that--and felt Herriman's furry paw curl around her throat, clenching her as hard as possible without choking and pulling her just inches away from the rabbit. With his other paw, he removed the monocle and placed it in his tuxedo's pocket.

"The only reason you're here is because you're the last remaining relative of my creator, Martha Arliss Ridgeworth Foster." he began. "I assure you, if she weren't still alive or you weren't her granddaughter but instead some grossly incompetent brat whose cultural preferences involve too much "punk rock" and too little actual integrity, I'd be going harsher on you than my reprimanding... much, _much_ worse."

Herriman's grip on the young woman loosened, but his demeanor remained harsh.

"So suck it up, 'Frankie'" he sneered. "You know very well this is the only job you can hold on to... even if you aren't very good at it."

The rabbit let go completely, slowly marching back into his previous position behind the desk. He zoomed in on the lady; her eyes were shut and her features started shrivelling... and cristal tears rolled down the ripples where her formerly-sparkling eyes used to be.

"Herriman... I'm trying." she said. "I can't be everywhere at once--I'm sorry about the house's condition, but they have me strapped more than you know." the woman inhaled deeply and withdrew back some confidence. "Look, just let me deal with some of the more troublesome friends, and I'll get around to those chores. Ok?"

The rabbit scowled. "Troublesome friends?"

Frankie was about to speak when the answer arrived in a different way entirely--loud rock music came roaring from the hallway, seeping into the office.

Herriman was about to speak when he saw both of the lady's fists tighten and her teeth grit.

- - -

The ape-like being with multicolored fur let his huge index race across the stack of CDs. _The_ _Clash, Ramones, Joy Division, Sex Pistols, Nirvana, The Offspring_... he smirked; time to have some fun.

He darted back towards the computer's speakers, which blared Green Day's hugely popular new record at maximum volume. He hopped onto the bed, grabbed the two remotes sprawled on it's blankets and gloriously pounded against the invisible drumkit. "DON'T WANT TO BE AN AMERICAN IDIO--"

"KAROSHI!"

The creature instantly spun around towards the voice's direction; a certain redhead stood at the entrance, her fiery eyes bristling. Without any further words, she stomped inside and yanked the computer cords from the power socket, abruptly ending his musical fantasies.

She wagged her finger at the ape furiously. "You. Out. NOW."

"Awww, Franklin--"

"FRANKIE!"

Karoshi didn't wince but grin. "But you have such great taste in music! It's certainly better than that stalk-eyed creep and his boring-ass Coldhead and Radioplay--"

"OUUUUUUUUUT!"

And she lunged into the bed with great furor; however, when she landed, her nails sank not into his fur but the strewn-around blankets. Her eyes quickly turned the other way--Karoshi leapt cleanly over her.

"Nice try, Vicky." he laughed.

"Vic-- what the fuck..." Frankie fumed as she rose back from the bed. "Get out or you're going to regret it--"

"Really? What are you going to do to me?"

Frankie took a closer look and grimaced. The ape stood right next to her private drawer, which was already pulled open--and his paw was fiddling with it's contents.

"Oh, looky looky!" he pulled out a handful of small pink panties. "What again, Francisco? Steal _my_ underwear?"

The woman made another lunge after the troublemaker, and missed again, this time almost disastrously; her chest crashed against the drawer's edge and her forehead smacked against the wooden top.

"Sorry, gotta run--or I'll be well done!" were Karoshi's last words before bobbling out of the room in maniacal laughter.

Frankie had little time to straighten herself out when Mr. Herriman walked into the room, equally puzzled. "Miss Frances, what is the meaning of this--!"

The redhead just growled and extended her left arm. "Leash, NOW."

- - -

"Was that Frankie screaming?"

"I know those records of her's were playing loudly moments ago; from her room's direction too."

"Rock girl or not, I know she's _far_ more responsible than that. Perhaps--"

"Well--oh no..."

The chatter between the two friends walking across one of the many second-floor hallways--a scrawny street rabbit and a green eel--was disturbed when a huge furry critter leapt in front of them, doing a goofy jig. The other two just glared at the troublemaker quizzically.

"Karoshi!" the rabbit exclaimed. "Aren't you supposed to be back at the basement?"

"Hiya guys, may I take your order?" he said with a toothy grin.

The eel's eyes did a vertical one-eighty. "Hi, just do us a favor and get the hell out of the way. And stop those stupid jokes, they were never--" but before he could finish, he was prodded by the rabbit.

"Uhhhh, Savin..." he said nervously, pointing at Karoshi's head.

"What is--oh my god."

The two saw pink undergarments stretched and wrapped tightly around the ape's neck. But the worst was yet to come: Karoshi ripped off one of them, wrapped it around his nose and took a hearty whiff that lasted a few seconds, followed by a pervertedly satisfied shudder.

They both gawked.

The ape noted both of their looks and whistled innocently. "Whaaaaaaaat...?"

"Karoshi..." the eel choked. "Jesus Hebrew Christ on a Segway, don't tell me--"

The rabbit's eyes bulged into the size of dinner plates. "Frankie's... _panties_..."

Karoshi nodded as he proudly twirled the undergarments. "They're clean, don't worry--" he glanced excitedly over Savin and the rabbit. "ANGRY CUTIE AT THREE O'CLOCK!"

And the other two had no time to react: they each felt an arm connect thunderously with their frames, sending them flying into the hall's sides with a thud. Standing where they once were was now a very pissed-off redhead, only a few feet away from the ape--and brandishing a very thick leather leash.

"This is your last chance, Karoshi." she snarled as she slowly uncurled the leash on the floor. "Come willingly or I will use force!"

The ape took up a deep faux accent. "The force is strong with you, Frankie Skywalker--but I am not yours yet."

"Fine then--"

Frankie didn't do as much lift a finger when the ape somersaulted backwards, missing the leash's reach by a wide margin. He continued the routine, becoming a distant speck in the lady's increasingly grizzled eyes.

The eel chuckled. "I have to admit, that one--"

"Shut up." was Frankie's response before sprinting off into the troublemaker's direction.

The two friends looked on with stunned awe as the redhead vanished from sight.

"Yeesh..." the rabbit said. "_'Shut up'_? Was that the same kind, accomodating lady I met when I first arrived?"

Savin groaned unhappily. "I take it you weren't paying much attention when Goofball was here, eh?"

- - -

Fortunately, the ape reached(Or rather jumped atop) the central staircase of Foster's very quickly. Unfortunately--more passerby friends awaited.

"Hiya, Karoshi." one of them, a blue blob of small stature but big burden, spoke with a smirk. "What's all this fuss... whose CD collection did you raid _now_?" he slyly motioned towards another of the beings; a tall, springy-eyed fellow whose once-peaceful face carried shades of contempt.

"Frankie's, I bet." he said. "I could've sworn Green Day was blaring from up above."

"_Green Day_!" the blob scoffed. "So Bendy was right after all, she _is_ a wannabe!"

"I'd like to continue with this chatter," Karoshi interjected. "But I'm currently busy with another matter!"

Before the two friends could react, he leapt impressively over them, landing at the very tip of the staircase's handle with the grace of an ice skater. Just in time too; they all turned around and saw a twitching Frankie right behind them.

"Hi Frankie, are things going..." the tall being began smiling--and wilted when he saw the disgust in the lady's face. "...not fine?"

Frankie's angry face contorted into one of sadistic satisfaction. "Not to worry, Wilt; this ends NOW!"

And with that, she swung the leash with all the ferocity she could muster, almost connecting with the blob and stalk-eyes--but instead reaching it's intended target; wrapping itself tightly across the ape's body.

"I HAVE YOU NOW!" she roared triumphantly--followed by a half-scowl. _Great, now I'm doing it_.

The two bystanders turned back towards Karoshi, expecting him to panic and thinking his luck ran out... instead, they saw his beefy legs spread up, sitting right on top of the handle--and slowly descending.

"Sorry!" the ape said with a smile as he slid down, still bound to the ropes.

Before she knew it, Frankie's body was knocked and dragged down the flight of stairs.

_Just flipping great_.

- - -

KNOCK. KNOCK. UMPPPH. THUD.

"Uhhhhhh..."

Frankie slowly opened her eyes; and gazed absently into the foundation of the floor she was sprawled around... she hoisted herself up with one hand, and rubbing her throbbing forehead with the other. She sat on the floor for a few seconds, groaning. _I'm still alive, thank god..._

Upon removing the hand from her face, the first thing she saw was a wishy-washy blur of colors with a wide smile.

"Ahhhhh yes, alive!" he proclaimed. "So there will indeed be a _Indiana Frankie IV_!"

The lady's first reaction: an absent groan. _Indiana Frankie?_

The lady's second reaction: a lightning bearhug tackle across the creature's huge frame onto the floor, not lovingly but angrily.

The house's spacious floor hall soon abuzzed with the presence of both imaginary friends and human customers waiting to be attended, but they both gawked at what unfolded before them: the pissed-off caretaker in emerald coat sprawled all over the huge ape, wrangling him with a messy leather leash, growling viciously and jabbing him multiple times... when it was over, Frankie was up and victorious, clutching the back of the creature's neck with one hand and tugging at the ropes with the other.

"THAT'S IT!" she snarled as she headed back up the stairs. "Screw the basement, you're going to have a nice chat with Mr. Herriman THIS INSTANT!"

"Fra--" was what all Karoshi managed before feeling a stiff knuckle soar across his cheeks.

"NOT ANOTHER WORD!" Frankie roared, now prompting her to yank on the ape's neck.

Halfway up the stairs they ran into a gaggle of imaginary fellows waiting at the top. Wilt, who witnessed the harsh behavior, approached the young lady dismayedly. "Frankie, no offense, but this might be a little excessive--".

"Oh, shut up and help me." she cut him off. "Frickin' jerk knocked me down the--"

And she herself was then cut off by the muddy yet audible and suspiciously recognizable vocals of an african-american couple singing about "humps" and "lumps".

_The hell..._ Frankie scowled. "Okay, whose idea was it to play Top 40 radio on the main hall?"

Most of the nearby friends just giggled ominously. Bloo in particular had poorly-hidden hints of a smirk in his face, and Wilt's already-crimson frame went even more red.

"Uhhh, ummmm, I don't think that's coming from any radio."

Bloo just leant against the handle with evil satisfaction. "Frankie, I didn't know the Black Eyed Peas were punk rock."

"Of course not-- what are you talking-- ok, what's going on--" she tried to speak, but was interrupted by Karoshi's paw tapping against her jacket sleeve, which was buzzing.

Frankie stared menacingly towards the ape and opened her mouth to speak--and then it came dawning on her in the worst way possible.

Her cellphone.

The lady reached into her jacket and swiftly yanked it out from one of the pockets--and instantly, the previous muddiness vanished and the song(Now in it's infamous chorus) rang full-throttle, filling the entire room. The witnesses, who were just about to leave after seeing the rough scuffle between the fiery lady and the ape, now looked on with more glee than pity.

Frankie's face quivered uncontrollably.

"Oh no, no, no, no, no no no _no_..."

She backed away from Karoshi and slowly set down the stairs, her horrified eyes glued to the cellphone and the rest of her face contorting uncontrollably. _Please no, please PLEASE NO..._

When she reached the floor level, she sprung it open and quickly tapped the "send" button, and to her relief the ringtone would finally cease.

She pressed it against her face. "H-hello?"

_Frankie? This is Ashley here, _said a teenage girl's voice--out loud; everybody nearby heard her. _I've been thinking and--_

"I'm in the middle of something, CALL BACK LATER." Frankie hissed.

Ashley groaned. _Just what I expected you to say. But, look--_

"GOD, LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!"

_I was going to apologize about my remarks last Tuesday--BUT FINE! _YOU _GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY LIFE! And you know what? My friends are right, you ARE a hopelessly paranoid and crybaby loser with no life, no real job and no future! How can you call yourself a "punk girl" if you're slaving away at that stupid madhouse for make-believe beings? Try getting laid for once--and no, that wonderful imaginary version of Brad Pitt doesn't count._

"Ash--" she tried to speak, but the girl hung up.

A painful silence etched the next few seconds. From every imaginable direction, there were pairs of eyes looking down upon the embarassing scenery. Some were still trying to stifle giggles, others now laughed outright--and hardly anybody appeared to be sympathetic at what they just saw.

She turned slowly towards the friends at the second floor, pointing a lame finger. "Who... who changed my--"

"MISS FRANCES!"

They had no time to answer, as out of their crowd popped a very annoyed-looking Mr. Herriman. He glanced over the surroundings, frowned at the large gathering below him and directed his attention to the woman.

"Oh dear." the rabbit gasped. "What could be the meaning of this...?"

Frankie's face went blank. "Herriman, I..."

But she soon stopped when she saw another figure ascend from the second-floor crowd, halting right next to the rabbit: Madame Martha Foster--and she didn't look very pleased at all.

"IN THE NAME OF FOSTER'S!" she was horrified. "All this racket, all this noise, all these people currently in the room; all the screaming and the _swear words_..."

"Grandma--"

Madame Foster growled and then motioned harshly towards her granddaughter. "Explain this now."

"I--" Frankie choked. "I was in Herriman's office-- one of the imaginary friends raided my room all of a sudden, I found out-- I chased him all across the house, I--"

She glanced halfway across the staircase, and saw that Karoshi was still huddled against the railing... who shot her a brief venomous smirk before suddenly sprinting to the top and clutching onto the house's founder like a confused child.

"OH MADAME FOSTER, HELP ME!" he bawled. "That caretaker lady of yours, SHE WAS TRYING TO HURT ME!"

"Hurt you?" the elderly's face bristled. "That "caretaker lady" happens to be my granddaughter--and she tried to _hurt_ one of my own?"

"Grandma, I--"

"IT WAS AWFUL!" Karoshi laid his huge head on Mme. Foster's shoulder and wept. "I admit it, I did invade her room and cause some trouble; it was wrong and I deserve punishment for it, BUT I JUST WANTED TO HAVE SOME HARMLESS FUN! But your granddaughter thought differently. Madame..." he paused tensely. "She punched me... right in the face."

Mme. Foster's eyes blew open. "WHAT?"

Karoshi cocked his head sideways, revealing the omnipresent throb on his furry cheek. "It's true..." he sobbed. "Not only did she assault me, she did so in front of not only the fellow friends--but your customers as well."

The old lady glanced around the ape's huge frame, and saw that the crowd below had many would-be adopters who were previously waiting in the reception hall, now attentive to the scenery in the central staircase. She returned to Karoshi, affectionately rubbing his face..

"Oh there there..." she cooed him. "Get this dreadful leash off your body and head back to your bedroom, I'll deal with this jerk myself."

"Yes, sweet Madame... I promise I'll stay put!" said Karoshi with faux piteousness, which the elder returned with a smile. He stumbled up the staircase and across the gathering of friends into one of the many second-floor halls, disappearing from eyeshot.

Frankie winced. _What the... huh!_

She timidly approached her grandmother with a pallid face--which went as crimson as her hair when the old lady suddenly let her right arm fly across the caretaker's face.

"Wha..." the young Foster tried to speak. "Grandma--"

"AND YOU, FRANCES JEANNE-HEMINGWAY FOSTER, SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF!"

The howl echoed across not only the floor area, but into nearly every single corner of the vast victorian house. Frankie backed away from her angry grandmother and spun to the outside area--right into the human bystanders, who were whispering and snickering and even hooting excitedly. She spun back towards the staircase... and right afterwards, she tripped and landed on her rear end. The caretaker's dismayed yelp sank in the influx of laughs and unsavory remarks.

Perfect too; she was now on the same height as Mme. Foster... who walked right up to her granddaughter with her fists tightened.

"How dare you... HOW DARE YOU." she cried out. "This is an adoption home, not jail! What gave you the right to treat a poor ape with such disrespect and cruelty!"

Frankie sprang back up, her face a hideous mix of contempt and sorrow. "What gave me the right?" she hissed. "That bastard nearly killed me--"

"BASTARD!" the elder Foster fumed. "Why, how polite, now resorting to _insults_--"

"HE KNOCKED ME DOWN THE FLIGHT OF STAIRS, GOD-FUCKING-DAMMIT!"

And right afterwards, Frankie's hands sprang into her mouth--simultaneously as her scream rang across both her eardrums and the mansion.

Too little, too late.

Mme. Foster turned around and took a few puffy steps across the staircase. She soon halted and slowly craned her head towards Frankie, faking a smile.

"Perhaps." she said. "But with that attitude and guttermouth of yours--I think you deserved it."

"_Deserved_ it?" Frankie recoiled as she went up the stairs as well. "B-b-b-b-but--"

"'B-b-b-b-b-but!' 'B-B-B-B-BUT!'" she sneered. "...my butt."

"Grandma--"

Before she could finish, the old lady turned on a dime and--for the second time, slapped her granddaughter squarely across the face, drawing even more oooooh's from the spectator-like crowd.

"DON'T 'GRANDMA' ME, YOU GROSSLY INCOMPETENT BRAT!"

Frankie raised a finger to speak, but she was shot down by Mme. Foster's continued howls.

"You want to cause all this drama and attract such a large crowd?" she spat. "Alright, I'll play fair and scold you, in front of what you created--and see how YOU like it."

The twenty-two-year barely uttered a word before being cut off again.

"This isn't just about the poor ape either. I'm serious, YOU MAKE ME SICK TO THE STOMACH!" she screeched. "As of late, I've seen that you've been acting very nasty as of late, in front of not only your friends but my clients as well. Tell me, 'Frankie'... is this really the kind of image that needs to be festered upon my decades of hard work and determination?"

She quickly shook her head. "But--"

"Oh, but let me guess: John Goofball McGee. So that's the reason for your newfound attitude problem? Still angry about him, eh? Still bitter that you had to miss that concert? Well then, SUCK IT UP! Sure, he was misbehaving and a bit of a moocher, but that gave you no right to try and wrongfully "expose" him--NOR DOES IT GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO DENY ANY OF MY IMAGINARY FRIENDS!"

"Gr--"

"Your behavior epitomizes everything that's horribly wrong with our world's current culture--what this house stands _against_. I used to not mind that you were into that dreadful garbage you call "punk rock", since I thought you were a responsible girl who knew the difference between right and wrong, but now it seems to be poisoning your mind. But go ahead. Go crawl back to your room and weep listening to the Sex Pistols; I'm sure that wonderful Johnny Rotten lad and his sleazy, anti-establishment ramblings will make you feel better... but god save YOUR ASS if I catch you acting like that again!"

"Wha--"

"On second thought, forget about your hideous taste in music; because YOU'RE GROUNDED!"

Frankie's tone deflated into a high-pitched husk. "...g-grounded?"

"Oh yes indeed. All your possessions; your computer, your videotape recorder, your CD collection, _everything_--gone for a month. Mr. Herriman is to go to your room and take out those things effective immediately! Not only that, but you are banned from leaving the house under your own terms; and you will be forbidden to engage in any group activities unless I give permission. You better get used to the mop, missy, because you're going to be using it a lot more for the next thirty days."

Now standing on the second floor, Mme. Foster turned her back on the central hall.

"And that will be that--this crowd is adjourned. I don't care if you're my granddaughter or the Prime Minister, such selfishness will never **ever** be tolerated in Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends... let that be a lesson to everybody here."

The old woman raised her feet to leave when she felt a pleading hand's shadow cast over her--which she swiftly jerked away with her own arms.

"No more, Frances. Just... no more."

"Please--"

"Leave me alone." Mme. Foster sighed. "You are a disgrace."

And with a finalitative huff, she strode off into the nearest hall and away from the crowd's eyesight.

"I..."

The saliva in Frankie's mouth snowballed in reverse, trailing her voice into that of a defeated hiss. Her chest tightened, her fingers quivered and she could feel an intense moistening sensation in her eye nostrils... she darted back towards the main hall. The crowd, a mixture of human clients and passerby imaginary friends, looked on with stony silence and awe--a silence that, as indicated by her sunk soul, would last for only a few seconds.

The entire room roared with noise. Snickers and laughter, some of them pointing the fingers towards the young woman; derogatory remarks ranging from "What a loser" and "Ooooh, redhead's got no boyfriend, redhead's got no boyfriend!" to "The old lady sure put that bitch in her place!"... it all ran twisted circles across the eardrums, stinging her brain and stabbing her heart.

Gulping, she turned towards the friends scattered around the staircase... Wilt gave an embarassed moan. The big furry coward Eduardo carried grimace in his face. Instead of squawking, Coco just bowed and shook her head. Many of the others either looked on disapprovingly or snickered unsympathetically--the blue blob in particular leant against the railing, his face glittering with triumph.

"Bloo..."

"Wanna punch me?" he shrugged. "Turn a month into a year? Hey, it's your funeral after all."

Frankie didn't react to those last few words. Partly because she'd gone stone cold numb at this point--partly because her puffy eyes welled uncontrollably with cristal tears, blurring everything around her.

_You know very well this is the only job you can hold on to_..._ my friends are right, you ARE a hopelessly paranoid, crybaby loser_..._ try getting laid for once_..._ your funeral after all_...

_You are a disgrace_.

She clamped her eyes shut.

- - -

Figures. A few dozen of them, huddled all around her in a pitch-black room with a white spotlight... a perfect circle. She sat in a plain wooden chair, letting everything swirl over her... her friends. And they all laughed.

_Ooooh, angry Frankie's still bitter 'bout that Canadian kid! _said the azure blue.

_So pathetic_, opined the satin red with stringy eyes. _What a dreadful, ill-raised girl_.

The blue scoffed. _She's twenty-two, a full-grown woman for cripes sakes! What you mean to say is; for somebody her age-- and boy's name--she sure acts like a little girl_.

_Aye--not to mention, she's still slaving away at that madhouse for imaginary friends_.

_Tut tut, Master Blooregard and Master Wilt_, _watch your wording_, said the pearly white. _That's our madhouse... and she's _my _slave. Isn't that right, Miss Frances?_

_What do you think Frankie is, senorita? _asked the huge slab of fur to the female ecstatic beak.

_Co-co!_ _Co-co, co-co... CO-CO! CO--_

_ENOUGH!_

The others turned around in shock; and then moved aside: a small chestnut brown swirl rose among them and directly approached Frankie.

"Mac! You..."

The fist in the woman's heart loosened marginally upon seeing the brown; he was the lone voice of reason at Foster's, and the closest thing she could deem a human friend. If anybody would understand her woes, surely he would be it. He would...

...give a loud, prolonged, disgusted raspberry sound.

_Eeeeeeeeeew, gross!_ _Why would I want a loser like you as my friend--much less my big sister? _he spat. _Get a life, please... oh wait, you can't. You're forever bound to slave away at grandma's place. Which is a good thing, because you'd bomb in the outside world... and it's hilarious you tried to expose that Goofball as an imposter, since you're a lame-o poser yourself! Face it, YOU SUCK!" _

"Wha... what did you--"

_Red is ugly--YOU'RE UGLY! No man would want you as their girlfriend... at least, those who aren't RETARDED!_

"Ma--"

The brown just hunched back towards and blended with all the other swirls, forming one giant nauseating blur. They spun around the skirts of the spotlight, laughing and giggling, laughing and giggling... Frankie tried to rise from the chair and run away, but she was paralyzed and bound to it--and now she couldn't even open her mouth or move her eyes.

_Nobody likes you, nobody likes you_... said the blue blob, at first alone--and then it grew, one-by-one. _Nobody likes you, nobody likes you, nobody likes you, NOBODY LIKES YOU, NOBODY LIKES YOU, NOBODY LIKES YOU, NOBODY LIKES Y--_

"EARTH TO FRANCES, EARTH TO FRANCES!"

Without warning, the blur morphed into a giant furry paw, which rocketed straight towards her.

- - -

"_Still_ making a scene in front of everybody? Tell me, Miss Frances--do you want an Oscar nomination? Do you need to be this hopelessly overdramatic?"

The caretaker lay fallen and sprawled across the upper rungs of the central staircase for some time and without speaking. Soon, she opened her eyes, inch by painful inch, and glanced at her surroundings... much of the crowd still remained, continuing to react and remark over the ensuing drama. For the third time, her facial cheeks throbbed with the fury of a thousand suns... and worst of all, she felt the shadow of a certain stern hare drooping over her.

He laid a paw on the female's scrawny figure. "Get up, you pathetic, insipid--"

CRACK.

It all happened in a flash: Mr. Herriman waltzed backwards, his arms flailing and his eyes aimlessly wandering across the ceiling... he mumbled incoherently for a few seconds, hissing something to the effect of "eye" and "blind"... the nearby friends soon noted that his monocle fell to the nearby rung. It was cracked--and tinged with fresh blood.

They turned towards the rabbit, and just in time: he succombed down the staircase, landing harshly on his front and laid across the floor, immobile.

They turned towards Frankie. Her right fist was raised straight in the air, closed tight--

Hanging where Herriman's head previously was.

- - -

And just like that, all energy amongst the witnesses drained once they saw the rabbit on the floor; the raucous noise reduced to stunned gasps and dead whispers. Some of the humans inched to check on the fallen hare... his left eye began to gush crimson.

One of them, a middle-aged businessman, gawked. "Alright, don't panic, somebody call--"

The man felt a fierce clawing sensation on his shoulder before finishing--and before he could react, it shoved him firmly away and back into the pack. The others became horrified: standing in his place was that very woman they saw just moments earlier.

Frankie simply knelt on top of the hare and pointed with a slurred scowl.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up..." she tranced. "I mean it, SHUT UP!"

"You... _you_ punched--"

"You think you're sooooooo great: that tacky monocle, that shitty tuxedo, your seniority--ooops, I mean SENILITY in his house; and that drunken mouth of yours that's good at nothing except bossing me around because YOU'RE a lazy asshole and because YOU count all the finances of this house while I slave away as I'm part of some SWEATSHOP..."

"Frances--"

"FOR THE LAST TIME, MY NAME IS FRANKIE! I REFUSE TO BE ASSOCIATED WITH YOUR PRECIOUS ELITIST UPPER-CLASS!"

"I--"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Aghast murmurs abuzzed. The nearby witnesses instantly backed back into the crowd, not wanting to feel the woman's wrath--but frankly, at this point, Frankie couldn't care less about how any of them would react. Oh, they were out of the picture now. Instead, years of anguished regret flashed before here, years of being nice and finishing last, of respecting others without being respected in return... her hands, her mouth, her eyes--

They all flared with the need for revenge... and she was going to get it now.

Ignoring the shades of sincere fright in the his face, Frankie mounted the hare and hammered away without ruth.

"Fra-- why-- you-- pl--" Herriman's head bobbled against the exposed floor, his cheeks crunching with massive pain.

"You... ruined... MY LIFE..." she snarled between breaths. "Now I'm... gonna... ruin... YOURS--"

A satin hand quickly reached towards the woman's fist, yanking it back. "Frankie, my god," said Wilt. "What has possesed you into this--"

Her arms promptly halted and sagged--then rammed him away.

The friend's lanky frame flew a few feet away from the scuffle, tumbling some of the nearby witnesses. They stared towards his direction, and saw the lady's right arm finish a fierce horizontal 90-degree turn.

Her index uncurled from the fist. "Leave me alone." she threatened. "I mean it, just..."

"Frankie?" said Wilt. "Please, calm down, tell me you'll--"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

And she spun to leave when she heard an angry wheeze from the floor.

"Utterly speechless!" she turned around and saw a wounded Mr. Herriman being helped to his feet by Eduardo and Coco, his paw covering the bloody eye. "Attack me like that, in front of EVERYBODY no less-- oh, there'll be hell to pay, I'm warning you. You've completely lost it--"

"LOST IT!" she cried. "Oh no no no, I didn't lose it, BECAUSE YOU ALL TOOK IT FROM ME!"

"Well," Herriman puffed. "Why, I can't believe it... how could poor Madame be related to such a _savage_..."

Frankie flinched, but didn't react to those last few words. Instead, "poor Madame" prompted her to dart towards the staircase; the elderly Foster stood halfway, holding a full wine vase with one hand and clutching her stunned face with the other.

"Frances..." she choked. "What is this--"

TWACK.

Instantly, the vase slipped from her grip and fell to the floor, shattering into microscopic bits. The auburn liquid spilled down the rung and eventually onto the floor, leaving behind a filthy unremovable trail that was chillingly symbolic of what occured right now. The impact was loud--

Not as loud as being slapped by your own granddaughter.

Any anger in Mme. Foster's face drained as Frankie bore venomously into her.

"Respect. R-E-S-P-E-C-T." she sobbed. "All of these years spent; that's all I wanted in return... and _this_ is how you pay me back?"

"Fra--"

"Fine then." A bitter smile curled around Frankie's thinning lips. "FUCK YOU!"

The elderly's brittle eardrums recoiled in those last few words. _Fuck you_... her eyes widened in horror.

"Swee--"

"FUCK ALL OF YOU, IN FACT! YOU'RE NOTHING MORE THAN LAZY, GOOD FOR NOTHING PIECES OF SHIT!"

"Why--"

"I'M TIRED, TIRED, TIRED! SO FUCKING TIRED I COULD DROP DEAD OF A HEART ATTACK THIS INSTANT... AND I SINCERELY HOPE SO, BECAUSE I'VE HAD FUCKING ENOUGH OF YOUR BULLSHIT!"

"You--"

"AND YOU KNOW WHAT? I'M DONE! I QUIT! BYE-BYE FOR THE EVIL MISS FRANCES, LITERALLY THE REDHEADED DEMONSPAWN OF THE WONDERFUL FOSTER FAMILY! THE BLACK SHEEP SO VILE AND HEARTLESS THAT SHE SACRIFICED ALL THE YEARS SPENT ON COLLEGE, GETTING ALL THOSE DEGREES, PURSUING SOMETHING RESEMBLING AN ACTUAL GODDAMN FULFILLING LIFE--JUST SO SHE COULD SPEND THE REST OF HER LIFE HERE, TO SCRUB TOILETS AT THIS WONDERFUL MADHOUSE! YOU WANT TO VILLIFY ME? GIRL, YOU'VE GOT SOME NERVE--_YOU_ SHOULD BE PUNISHED FOR WHAT YOU PULLED OVER THE TICKETS TO EUROPE!"

Tears formed across the old lady's face. "Please--"

"PLEASE? _PLEASE_! PLEASE WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU WHEN I NEEDED EVEN THE BRIEFEST OF BREAKS--IN NO FUCKING WAY SHOULD IT BE GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME NOW! IT WASN'T MY FAULT THAT GOOFBALL TREATED ME LIKE A BITCH, NOR IT WASN'T MY FAULT THAT I HAD TO GO SHOPPING BECAUSE HE AND THAT ASSHOLE BLOOREGARD ATE EVERYTHING--OR THAT THEY ORDERED PIZZA WITHOUT TELLING ME--NOR WAS IT MY FAULT THAT NOBODY BOTHERED TO TELL ME ABOUT THOSE ELEPHANT TRUNKS BEHIND THAT STUPID CLOWN NOSE, SO THAT MY "GOOF-GOOF" INCIDENT COULD'VE BEEN AVOIDED SO THAT I WOULD'VE GONE TO THE CONCERT AND, GOD FORBID, _GET SOME FUCKING TIME TO MYSELF_?"

"IT WAS A MISTAKE, A FUCKING MISTAKE! I'M ONLY HUMAN, NOT SOME WONDERFULLY FLAWLESS IMAGINARY CREATION LIKE I'M SURE YOU THINK MR. HERRIMAN IS! BUT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, I HAD TO PAY FOR ALL THE THINGS GOOFBALL DID TO ME; WHICH IS WHY I'M STILL SUFFERING WHILE HE'S NOW COZY SOMEWHERE IN CANADA, PROBABLY PARTYING HARD, WATCHING A SOUTH PARK MARATHON AND FUCKING SOME TEENAGE BLONDES ALONG WITH HIS EQUALLY REPUGNANT FRIENDS! BUT FINE--IF HE OR SOME OTHER ASSHOLE LIKE HIM COMES BACK, LET'S SEE HOW _YOU_ HANDLE WITHOUT ME!"

"He--"

"AND NEXT TIME YOU WON'T HAVE ME AS A SCAPEGOAT! INSTEAD, YOU'LL HAVE TO TURN TO, GEE I DON'T KNOW, PERHAPS WILT! HE'S ONLY SOME SPINELESS WIMP WHO COULDN'T SAY "NO" EVEN IF HE HAD DARTH FUCKING VADER THREATENING TO SHOVE A LIGHTSABER UP HIS ASS! IN FACT, HE CAN BE THE NEW CARETAKER; I'M SURE MR. HERRIMAN WILL APPRECIATE NO LONGER HAVING TO GO "MISS FRANCES" ALL THE TIME--"MISS FRANCES" THIS, "MISS FRANCES" THAT, "OH MISS FRANCES, GO END THE WAR ON TERRORISM AND CURE CANCER WHILE HANDCUFFED, BLINDFOLDED AND JUGGLING TEXAS AND THE MOON WITH YOUR NOSE--AS A REWARD, YOU GET TO WIPE MY ASS!"--ALWAYS MISS FUCKING FRANCES!"

"AS OF RIGHT NOW, I'M STUCK BABYSITTING ABOUT SEVEN-HUNDRED FRIENDS THAT ONLY EXIST BECAUSE PARENTS THESE DAYS ARE SO NEGLIGENT THAT THEY CAN'T EVEN TEACH "MIND CONTROL" TO THEIR KIDS; IT'S BAD ENOUGH THAT THEY'RE SO IGNORANT THAT THEY'LL LET THEM GET BULLIED AND THEN THEY'LL PLAY ABOUT DOZENS OF HOURS OF GRAND THEFT AUTO AND THEN STUFF LIKE THE COLUMBINE MASSACRE AND THE SEPTEMBER 11 TERRORIST ATTACKS OCCURS!"

"AND WHAT DID YOU LOT DO TO, I DUNNO, _ACTUALLY HELP ME OUT A BIT_? I KNOW, CALL ME TO YOUR OFFICE SO YOU CAN REPRIMAND ME OVER CHORES THAT I'VE YET TO GET AROUND TO BECAUSE OF THE AFOREMENTIONED--AND THUS LEAVING ALL THESE FRIENDS UNGUARDED, CAUSING THAT MISCHIEVOUS ASSHOLE APE TO WALTZ INTO MY ROOM, MESS WITH MY MUSIC COLLECTION AND STEAL MY FUCKING UNDERWEAR! OH, HARD TO BELIEVE, THE BEST IS YET TO COME: HE KNOCKED ME DOWN THE FUCKING FLIGHT OF STAIRS!"

"AND HE'S A "POOR APE" BECAUSE OF IT? HE GETS ALL YOUR LOVE FOR MISBEHAVING WHILE I LOSE ACCESS TO MY POSSESSIONS FOR TRYING TO SET THINGS STRAIGHT? BIG DEAL, IT'S NOT LIKE I GET MUCH OF A CHANCE TO ACTUALLY USE THEM IN THE FIRST PLACE, BECAUSE I'M TOO BUSY CATERING TO EVERY THANKLESS FUCKING WHIM! AND I'M A "WANNABE" BECAUSE BLOOREGARD CHOSE TO CHANGE MY RINGTONE TO FUCKING BLACK EYED PEAS TO EMBARASS ME IN FRONT OF EVERYONE? WAS IT MY FAULT THAT MENACE SET THE RECEPTION SO THE CALLER COULD BE HEARD OUT LOUD, AND WAS IT MY FAULT YOU ALL MADE ME SO UNSETTLED THAT I SNAPPED AT MY FRIEND, SO THAT SHE WOULD SNAP AT ME AS WELL AND SO THAT EVERYBODY COULD OVERHEAR THE LAST REMNANTS OF MY SOCIAL LIFE GO DOWN THE TOILET!"

"OH, BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER, BECAUSE I'M THE BIGGEST BITCH TO WALK ON THE FACE OF THIS INNOCENT AND PURE EARTH! I'M MORE EVIL THAN HITLER AND HUSSAIN PUT TOGETHER! GREEDY, TEMPERAMENTAL, COLDHEARTED, SELFISH! ONE THING, THOUGH--_HOW CAN I BE SELFISH IF I DON'T HAVE A MOTHERFUCKING SELF TO BEGIN WITH_?"

"I--"

"I HATE YOU!"

The room entire became stone cold. The bystanders, once deriving great glee from the young redhead's plight, now gazed in horror as they watched her headfirst plunge into insanity. Mme. Foster cowered against the rungs, giving up the idea of stopping Frankie's maniacal fit... at the same time that she at last stopped screaming.

Her wide-open mouth shook shut... she slowly spun around, and quickly read the uniform terror in all their faces... and soon after, she closed her eyes shut--but it was too late. Instead of lines, freezing rivers of tears streaked down her pasty-white face, dripping down her chin and perfectly countering the stinging facial sweatdrops...

Just barely, she felt a small tug on her jacket's sleeve.

"Frankie?"

A youngling's tone, innocent and concerned... she drooped her head accordingly and there he was--a small boy with chestnut brown hair and eyes that glistened with fresh sadness.

"Why are you so upset?" he said. "I heard you screaming as I made my way inside... what's wrong?"

_What's wrong_?

Frankie sagged in faux contemplation before speaking in a fatal tone.

"Hmppph, want an answer?" she scoffed.

"Yea--"

"How about _you_."

The boy's eyes widened dismayedly. "What do you mean--"

"How about that good-for-nothing piece of shit "friend" you call Bloo." she then raised her finger and spun it in a woozy circle. "How about _every single person_ standing in this room as I speak? You deem yourselves to be so great--but you're all fucking peasants as far as I care. That's all I have to say."

She took a sharp sigh and marched back up the stairs--only to feel that familiar old hand curl around her waist..

"Frances, I--"

"No... please tell me. How _can_ I be selfish if this is the best I can manage after all those years of effort? All my dreams, all my ambitions, all those degrees I've gotten and all those I wanted, my future--"

And as quick as a fox, Frankie did a complete one-eighty, flinging the elder's arm in stern refusal. Her eyes twitched and her frothing mouth sprang wide open.

"AND I'M SPENDING IT AS YOUR SLAVE, IN THIS GODFORSAKEN SHITHOLE!"

The huge spanish monster balked. "Que!"

Wilt rolled his eyes. "Oh dear, again..."

"For the love of god," Mme. Foster dropped to her knees and began to cry. "Please stop, they're here--"

"No, do let them hear us." she said coldly. "It'd be pretty tragic if your wonderful imaginary friends never learn the truth about yours truly. Which is what I'll do right now: THANKS FOR NOTHING, YOU UNGRATEFUL BUMS!"

She took a few more steps upwards, unaware that her sleeve dragged the boy along.

"Frankie..." he begged. "Please--"

Just some rungs away from the second floor, the woman stopped... not because of the child, but instead the heartbroken elder--and an exhausted Herriman, who huddled to his creator with more fright than gruff.

"But feel free to kick me out, and feel free to permanently deny that I was ever your granddaughter." she spat. "Just don't be surprised if this joint then goes bankrupt and you're forced to join me on the streets, JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE INCAPABLE OF DEALING WITH ABOUT SEVEN HUNDRED CRETINS CREATED BY SOME STUPID RETARDED GIRL!"

And she turned in a puff, about to walk away--when a tiny female glint came crashing to her mind.

Frankie quickly turned around and looked over to the audience... and indeed, amongst them was none other than a little dark-skinned girl with multiple dreadlocks. She recognized her from a few days earlier...

Goo.

Frankie's heart sank.

"Oh, _no_..."

The woman hurried to the bottom, just as the same time she began to solemly walk up the stairs... tears formed across her once-perky eyes.

She placed a sincere hard on the girl. "Goo, I--"

Goo simply shoved them away. "Leave me alone."

Those would be her last few semi-compostured words before wailing loudly and running up the stairs and into one of the many second-floor halls.

Gulping, Frankie turned to the aforementioned small boy, who headed upwards as well.

"Mac--"

He shot a dirty glare towards the woman. "Get bent."

And he ran off into the same direction as the little girl, calling for her name.

For a brief eternity, time stalled... as did the heart palpitations of everybody currently in the spacious room. Frankie spun around repeatedly, gazing wholesale--the would-be clients, the imaginary friends, the hare and the grandmother that she coldly shunned just moments earlier... and felt the last shards of her broken glass heart melt into ashes that permantently scarred her soul and conscience.

She ran away. Far, far away.

- - -

_Oh, no no, I can't believe this is happening, no... what have I done..._

Her feet splashed erratically against the muddy soil of the mansion's surroundings. The weather of this late-afternoon Friday, which started with soothing small specks of water, now looked to be otherwise--the clouds roared with increasing frequency; and with it thickening the batch of rain.

She skidded--just barely enough to not collide--in front of the Foster public bus. Her grandmother(_So sweet and generous_, she thought venomously) owned a rather spiffy personal car, leaving her and the rest of the house to fend for themselves with this tacky, oversized piece of shit... the redhead just rested against it's outer surface, gazing with horror at the sight now before her.

At one time, Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends seemed to be one of the most wonderful places on Earth, a haven for all those jaded by the world's contagious cynicism, a place that; just like it's name; was full of joy and imagination. But now, as she glared from a fair yet unsatisfactory distance, it loomed overhead with a harsh tint and a parasitic glee--as if it was no better than death row.

And indeed, the gateway--which she unknowingly waltzed through while half-way open--now slid slowly close, until making a thick CLANK sound indicating that it was firmly shut.

Jail.

Frankie Foster nervously hung her head low, and stared onto the dirty puddle caked against the sidewalk. The reflection was that of a redhaired person in emerald garb--

But she wore a normal t-shirt instead of a jacket--and her eyes carried a blatant glint of evil. "Congratulations, you've done it now... TWERP!"

- - -

**A/N First off, it should be clear that I don't own Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends... nor do I own any of the real-life things referenced in this chapter(All bands, Star Wars and that "crossover cameo appearance" at the very end--more below).**

**Ashley, Savin the eel and Karoshi the troublesome ape are original creations of mine, the last of which you can expect to see more of in the future chapters... I might've overdone it with his constant pop culture references, but that's one of his personality traits. I actually had fun writing Karoshi's scenes, which is despite the fact that 1) Frankie is my favorite FHFIF character and she pretty much gets abused in a way that makes "Imposter's Home" look like a beacon of justice and 2) he trashed my two favorite bands, Cold_play_ and Radio_head_(...yeah, I'm into British rock). The street rabbit is neither Bendy or an original character; he's the weeping friend that Frankie comforts in _Hiccy Burp_.**

**And yes... the reflection at the end _is_ indeed Vicky from The Fairly Oddparents. It's a symbolic thing, really.**

**I haven't seen that many episodes of Foster's, so bear with me if any details are inaccurate. Also... this is my first fanfic in a long time--and my first lengthy serious one _ever_, so I apologize if you don't find it to be so stellar compared to other stories here. I realize I'm way behind the likes of dude13 and Goddess of Unfinished Projects, but I'm just starting out and I firmly believe that my writing will get better as I continue. In fact... the main purpose of this story--aside from my aforementioned love of Frankie--is basically about clearing out my writing rust for when I eventually decide to tackle some of my more epic projects in the future.**

**R/R, next chapter in around a week, and I'm 99.9 sure it won't be as long as this one... and in the interest of ending with a positive note, I can guarantee that things can only get better from here.**


	5. Damaged People

**A/N - Believe it or not, this story is NOT dead. After much waiting, I present Chapter Five:**

Harsh rain pounded against the withered lanes of Wilson Way. When the many overeager schoolkids and bewildered adults returned from their weekly professions, their anticipation for the two days and half of rest ahead of them was only further aided by the mellow specks of water in their dusty shoulders. It seemed to everyone, even the weather forecasters, that it would be just that. After all, a little rain has never killed anybody nor has it dampened the excitement of a brand-new weekend--_especially_ not for the somewhat infamous "dramatis personae" that populated a certain Victorian-esque adoption home for imaginary friends.

Unfortunately, a little balloned into a fierce showerstorm; in fact, the _fiercest_ the city was about to experience in many years. That fact alone was enough to make many of the unsuspecting visitors of Foster's Home that Friday afternoon to forget about the nasty incident they witnessed, opting to haul ass back to the safety of their homes and instead mope over their cancelled plans and shattered dreams. What they fail to realize is just how easy they had it compared to what the bespectacled residence was now enduring. Very, very easy.

The little girl named Goo Goo Gaga sat shyly in one of the front row seats of the crippled public bus, the back of her head lightly aching with the need to know what time it now was. The lone watch inside read a broken 00:00... her instincts believed that it's been over an hour since she ventured into the bus, and certainly at this point, the sun's rise wasn't too far off... or at least she hoped.

Her heart simply read an eternity.

She bent her head down, staring into the thick molass of crimson hair resting on her lap... much of it's fiery spark remained intact. _So beautiful_, she thought with more than a bit of sadness in her expression... almost like a fallen angel. Which was even with it being mucky and dripped in filth. Even within the dimly lit confines of the bus' interior and the unpleasant stench it currently manifested.

Even now, as she lurched desperately towards the girl's knees and cried bitterly.

Goo raised an index and steered it to attract the young woman's attention--but halted it halfway through. Instead, all other four fingers uncurled and allowed them to stroll across her hair for a few seconds. The girl bent over, spread her arms open and, with great caution, wrapped them around the figure's skinny frame. She then pulled herself within earshot and at last opened her mouth.

"There there, Frankie."

A few painful seconds paused before any sort of reaction arrived: the woman's upper side writhed slightly before releasing a high-pitched croak that was probably meant to be a sob.

"Goo..."

The girl could only smile faintly. "Yeah?"

"I... I'm..."

Frankie trailed off without finishing; Goo instead felt a unsettling quaking sensation as she latched onto the lady. She simply tugged her closer, her tone soft yet direct.

"...sorry?"

Frankie gave a pathetic whimper. "...yes..."

Goo didn't speak for a good long while. Instead, she continued clutching onto Frankie with increasing fierceness, while humming in suspenseful contemplation. Back and forth, back and forth... back and forth... Goo discovered that she was now rocking the traumatized woman's face in a soothing see-saw motion... her lips quivered in bitterly ironic laughter--_just_ like how Mac had rocked her mere hours earlier.

She clamped her eyes shut, and _hard_... so hard, in fact, that instead of neverending darkness she saw a germ-like gulf carved into her psyche, which proverbially happened to be herself reaching deep into her eardrums and her mind, reflecting on everything the woman had just told her. At first, the pictures on her head seemed to be ridiculous. Some funny victorian rabbit scolding an incompetent 22-year-old girl... an ape with multicolored fur rocking out to Green Day... that same girl chasing after the ape with a leash as if she were Indiana Jones and failing miserably... and then getting blown off by her friend via a cellphone whose reception she clumsily configured so everybody could hear, and then slapped around by some old lady--

And just as Goo chuckled darkly, the true meaning of everything came to her: the rabbit was the young lady's supervisor, and she wasn't really incompetent but instead barely-conscious. The ape invaded her room and not only fiddled with her possessions, but stole her private undergarments to bring forth even more misery. Her attempt at chasing after the ape ended not miserably but almost disastrously: she tumbled down the house's central staircase, which was enough to instantly break anybody's neck and kill them. And the cellphone; it wasn't her who improperly configured but instead a certain blue figure she'd previously met, who changed the reception to be heard out loud... and set her ringtone to Black Eyed Peas. And that female friend, she'd made a mistake and likely wanted to apologize, but by then the redhead became maniacal at her plight, causing her to go crazy and unintentionally ruin their relationship. And that old lady--

Madame Foster. The matriarch of the house and the caretaker's grandmother. And that rabbit guy--

Mr. Herriman. President of Foster's and Madame's own imaginary friend. And that blue blob--

Blooregard Q. Kazoo. Mac's imaginary friend and the very reason why he frequently visited Foster's. And that ape--

Karoshi.

Goo winced... _her_ original imaginary friend.

Without knowing, the little girl released her vice hold on the woman, and leant directly against the chair, it's chilliness easily penetrating her thin clothing and stinging her skin... her eyes twitched in horror. These four people--two of which were supposed to be the ones closest to the woman, another whom was her best friend's imaginary partner, and the last of which was _her_ own creation--all of which whom were supposed to be decent people, all of which she had at one point or another thought of in a good light--

And they all were the reason why Frances Foster was now left to weep in a little girl's lap, mentally fractured and emotionally crippled.

Tears welled at the aftershock of this rude awakening... so dismaying, so upsetting, so, so... _self-fulfilling_.

The girl began to recall her own life... she was innocent and pure while all the cool girls were extremely self-absorbed and cynical--so naturally, she was prone to teasing and even physical harm. She played with homemade animal plushies while they all decorated their bodies with the latest in make-up and fashion. She had an ape as a friend while they huddled to their macho, "bad to the bone" boyfriends, shunning the very concept of imaginary friends. She wanted to be Minnie Mouse on Halloween, but couldn't because everybody else wanted to be like Paris Hilton and Ashlee Simpson. And while they all stuffed their mouths with fruitcake and dreamed over their latest material possessions, all Goo wanted for last Christmas was to see better days.

This girl happened to be none other than herself: lonely and friendless, a loser with nobody that cared for except her relatives; an outcast her entire life, which despite having only lasted a third of what now lay next to her--

Goo dropped her eyes back on the woman--and forgot pretty much everything. That she abruptly shoved her out of the house and tried to ban her _and_ Mac. That she was very unkind to her beforehand. That she utterly cracked, disowned everybody and gave her the worst verbal insult she'd witnessed her entire life. That she was temperamental, snarky and volatile. Normally, such traits would make for a horrible human being--but now that she's heard the full story, what _really_ happened, she was certain that the very figure now wrapped around her was not evil, but simply broken.

Just as broken as her.

Her weary mind raced back into the last few hours with a sigh. Mac... she once again those particular words she had told him at the guest room: _"That me and Frankie have a bit in common."_ Upon further thinking and realization, Goo was absolutely certain that she and Frankie did NOT have "a bit in common". No, no, no, she and Frankie--

They were kindred spirits.

It was time.

Goo tapped at the redhead's shoulder. "Fra-Frankie."

And at last, Frankie pried herself from the girl's sleeve, wiping her tears and taking a heavy sniff. "Yeah?"

"I..." she began nervously. "I've been wondering, and you--well, are you feeling any..."

The words trailed off like sudden gusts of warmth in the depths of the north pole. It was at this time that Frankie at last corked herself straight and exposed her face to the girl. It was still pale and it was still withered--but it's wrinkles now carried a sincere yet frightened genuinity. And she rest a hand on the girl's shoulder with a weak but kind smile.

"Better?"

Goo nodded. "Are you?"

Frankie suddenly hoisted herself closer to the girl, showing hints of breaking into a grin. "Somewhat, now that I've cried so damn much." she chuckled--and then her smile evaporated completely. "Uhhh, Goo; everything I told you and all... you think you're any ready to, uhhh--"

"Talk about it?"

A few seconds passed before the woman simply leant against the bus' side, nodding blankly. "Yeah..."

It would be minutes before either of them would speak again. With Frankie against the window and Goo sitting near the seat's edge; the two females uniformly gazed onto each other's seethingly crimson eyes, neither of them really knowing what to say or how to do say... as both of them thought, _this wasn't going to be easy_.

...but it had to be done.

With a sharp sigh, Frankie opened her mouth to speak--

But felt a firm hand land on it, and it was Goo who would get to utter the first word.

"Look, Frankie--I forgive you."

There would be another brief delay in the woman's reaction; but the results would be multifold.

Frankie--her lips quietly unglued from Goo's moist hand; her head awkwardly jerking to chest level and both arms flailing upwards, curling around her neck--and then her entire body crumbled weightlessly onto the not-so-wide gap between the two rigid seats.

Goo--with eyes ablaze in panic, she dropped to the filthy floor and was just barely able to squeeze herself right next to the fallen lady, peering right into her face: quivering, contorting, maniacal, flat-out indecipherable... she arched back upwards, examining the woman's sudden baffling behavior... it was almost as if she were having a--

Before she could finish the most horrible of thoughts, two arms quickly clenched around her tummy, sparking a sudden rush of weight across her small body which tackled her squat into the floor. Not angrily, nor viciously.

But lovingly.

All Goo felt were two moist lines erratically pecking all around her face for some good seconds, during which her mind drew the numbest of all blanks. But Frankie's face, when she at last halted and bored straightly into the girl--

Instead of a blank, it brimmed and surged with newfound affection. "Oh, Goo," she cooed kindly. "Thank you. Thank you..."

She leant right onto the girl, this time wrapping her arms around her neck, hoisting herself within earshot--and allowing her own smile to unfurl.

"Forget everything horrible I said." she sniffed. "Because, Goo, the fact of the matter is--I _love_ you."

And she tightened her hold with complete ferocity.

"Fr-- Fra..."

Goo did not bring herself to finish the woman's name. Instead, her eyes gazed absently into the bus' internal roof, growing wider and wider as her clutch became tighter--until a massive numbing sensation momentarily claimed her entire body. She failed to note her constricting lungs, feel neither her ribs ache or the rush of blood to her tiny body's upper side, and was completely ignorant to the fact that she was laying splat on a damaged bus and that the thin puddle trickling across her back was mucky and not-so-clean. And she didn't care.

She didn't realize, at the moment anyway, that her mouth curled into a giant smile and that her right arm soothly rubbed the messy crimson hair and patted the upper back. What she _did_ realize was her heart was showered in the thing she'd been direly longing for since conception. At last. And the woman's feelings--

It was mutual.

- - -

The exact time that elapsed since one left the mansion to meet the other would forever remain unknown to them. However, once they found themselves resting back on the seat, the rain was reduced to aftercourse specks and shades of genuine light at last crept up from the distance.

Sunrise.

The two females' perspectives on the impending Saturday morning were opposites: Frankie stared wholesale through the window, while Goo's eyes were hardly open and barely able to peer over the edge--not so much focused with getting a good view as she was with contently snuggling against the woman's midsection and savoring the tight yet warm and loving hold of her two arms.

Soon enough, one of those two arms would detach and poke gently at Goo's neck. With a yawn, she craned her head upwards--

And saw a vulnerable yet kind smile plastered on Frankie's messy face. "Hey sleepyhead, you finally ready to actually talk about it?"

"Talk 'bout wha..." was her slurred response--when it dawned on her.

When she sprang wide awake to look at the woman, her happiness faded once again.

"Goo..."

Frankie detached completely from the girl and hunched herself flatly against the bus' structure, resting mostly against the seat but allowing her left leg to slunk weightlessly into the gap. With head hunched down, her untied concentration of red hair had curled and dropped all over her face; but even with that, Goo could tell the sudden rush of sorrow and pity in her expression.

Goo inched in, carefully swept away the strands blocking her face, and indeed: both of Frankie's eyes loomed squarely towards the floor, now afraid to meet the girl's gaze.

"Well, what?" she chimed perkily, resting her left hand against Frankie's.

The woman drew in a deep sigh, simultaneously savoring and dreading the girl's growing presence. "I hope that, by know, you've realized... Goo--I do _not_ hate grandma, or Mr. H, or anybody else for that matter."

Goo smiled. "I know."

The 22-year-old crossed her arms and puffed. "I'm frustrated with them, yeah, but I don't hate them. The truth is, I-- well, I..."

Just seconds as Frankie trailed off, Goo raised her hand and instead placed it on the woman's shoulder.

"You love them, don't you?"

Frankie nodded glumly. "Oh yes, indeed. I--"

"And you want them to love you in return."

Frankie's eyes blazed open in outright shock.

"How...?"

Goo's expression grew dead solemn as Frankie's face began to semi-contort. She could easily tell, all the stress and all the traumatic memories harked back to her; culminating in a fresh batch of tears streaming down her puffy eyes--

As quickly as she could, Goo quickly latched on the woman and hugged her as tight as possible.

"Frankie--" _don't cry_ was about to escape her lips, but too late--the lady broke into yet another uncontrollable weeping fit. She flung her arms around the girl, pressed her face against her and sooner than later, Goo felt her shoulder moisten greatly.

Goo looked on with great dismay. _Not again_... she wrapped her own arms around the redhead, now becoming her turn to cradle somebody. After a half-minute, she felt Frankie's unintelligible whimpers and moans tickling her skin.

She prodded gently. "What is it?"

Frankie pried herself a few inches with a harsh sob. "I..."

Goo tightened her hold. "'I' what?"

"That... Goo, you're right: they don't appreciate me."

The girl frowned. "And..."

"And after yesterday," she sniffed. "They'll probably hate me for the rest of my sorry ass life."

"Actually--" Goo was about to finish when those last few words fully harked to her. Instead, she inched right into the woman's ear and spoke with a deep frown. "Huh, what do you mean?"

Frankie moped. "I'm nothing. Never was, never will be. They're right about me--hell, I was right on one thing: I _am_ the biggest bitch to walk this planet."

"Frankie--"

Goo was cut off by a high pitched wheeze, before she limped herself away from the girl and onto the still freezing windowpane. For a while, the girl looked on at the figure before her with regret: crying bitterly against the stone cold glass with her face completely exposed, her arms instead slunking guiltily towards the seat's chasm, physically trancing like a lost child and uttering things that were not only self-loathing but also _suicidal_... and soon, Goo's dismay evolved into flat-out disdain.

She's seen enough.

The girl carefully but unhesitantly dove towards Frankie; which she predictably tried to shoo off with a swift jerk of the arm--however, instead of surrendering, Goo just puffed stubbornly and firmly lodged herself right next to the redhead's neck--

Before Frankie had a chance, Goo grabbed both of her arms and wrestled them to the seat's hull. With another puff, she sprang herself right within the side.

"Uhhhhh, '_sorry ass life_'?" she scoffed. "Frankie, if I may borrow from your personal vocabulary: fucking bullshit."

"What--" Frankie corked her head impatiently--but barely opened her mouth when the last two words came crashing to her. Instead, her eyes widened in shock. "Goo, what did you just _say_?"

"'Fucking' and 'Bullshit'." Goo smiled. "Which is what your relentless self-loathing is."

"You--"

Frankie was cut off by the girl's two arms wrapping themselves tightly but tenderly across her neck. With this, she just lazily rest her head on the woman's shoulder and pulled herself right within earshot.

"You may think you're nothing more than a piece of shit--see, there's me using _your_ vocabulary again, somebody call the censors!" she giggled. "But seriously, Frankie; to me, you're worth far more than that. You think you have no friends? You honestly think everybody hates you?"

Frankie's head slightly swung up and down in a nod--

TWACK. And then bobbled sideways, her facial skin burning furiously.

The girl's tone became accusing. "Well, how 'bout me?"

Frankie went pallid. "Wha..."

Shortly afterwards, Goo's small yet thrivingly wet lips hurried towards Frankie's throbbing left cheek, soothing the aching sensation; followed by her tightening the hold around the neck area.

"...so you don't hate me?" the woman sobbed. "Even after I--"

"Tried to ban me _and_ Mac, went crazy on everybody and called me retarded."

Frankie craned around to eye the girl--and saw that her smile only broadened.

"I know, I know," she giggled. "And I _already_ forgave you. And you already hugged and kissed me in reaction. Yet you insist--"

"I dunno, it's pretty easy to forgive somebody who only verbally hurt your feelings." Frankie snapped all of a sudden; and then her tone went fatally grave. "...not so easy to forgive somebody who punched a monocle through your eye, or slapped an old lady who happens to be _my_ grandmother."

Goo opened her mouth to speak, but nothing arose. Detaching her iron hold, she grimly realized she just made a very valid point--

And like a brand new lightbulb, an even wider smile developed on her face.

As Frankie curled herself back to her crying session, Goo once again rest a gentle hand on the woman's. "...so you think Mr. Herriman and Madame Foster hate you, huh?"

Frankie delayed a little before huffing stubbornly. "Rightly."

The girl puffed and hummed in what appeared to be contemplation--before letting loose with a very, very triumpant smile.

"Well then," she beamed. "I'll just have you know that I overheard the two of them as I left to look for you."

A few silent seconds went by before those words would have the girl's desired effect: Frankie simply turned around, backed against the bus' glass window and let her bloodcurled eyes grow wide open in sudden disbelief.

"Herriman and grandma?" her face went even more blank. "...you _overheard_ them?"

Goo bent her head slightly low and once again sat herself next to the scrawny woman. "It was only for a few minutes. They didn't see me, of course; they were at the foyer, I was right outside the house looking from one of the windows."

And after a swift yet gentle motion, she once again found herself hugging at the woman's neck, mouth hovering mere inches away from her ear. And at last, her smile turned into an utter frown.

"They're concerned about you."

There would be no immediate reaction. Frankie continued to curl against the seat's hull, arms crossed and legs locked, yet with eyes spaciously open to allow the new batch of tears to stream down her face. But even that didn't stop two certain figures from swirling in her mind and across her psyche: a stuffy anthropomorphic rabbit and a short old lady clad in a green sweatshirt... last afternoon, and all the other moments flashed painfully before her... and then she felt a shattering sensation deep inside her chest--something she swore resembled her very heart--

Two things, however:

Even though she still centered on that ill-fated last afternoon, the memories that flashed before her weren't negative, or traumatizing. Indeed, this time, she thought of all the _good_ moments and memories. And as she sift through them--and as _they_ sift through her like band-aids to a wound or fresh water to thirsty lips--she soon realized that her life wasn't as rotten as she sometimes liked to believe. In fact, those very words caused a rare sincere smile to form across her withered features... and then realized--

What shattered was actually imaginary grey buildup, thickly encrusted around a red slab that happened to be her _real_ heart. A little girl's heart. Genuine, carefree, loving--and embittered by the curse of adulthood and the fact that she was caretaker of a mansion that housed over a thousand non-human beings while girls far younger than her reaped the benefits of life, without experiencing even a _fraction_ of the misery she'd endured--

But that didn't matter to her now.

"..._concerned about you_..."

Those words convinced Frankie to halt her crying to glance at the girl--and the frailty of what lay before her eyes was enough to ignite unrest in her newly-awakened heart. So kind, so innocent, so _pure_ and yet; she sat solemly on the seat's edge, her untied hair now scrawled across her face--effectively covering the sorrow that now governed her once-obnoxiously cheery soul.

"They care about you, Frankie." she said with more than a twinge of sadness in her expression. "I'm not lying. They even started thinking that you might be... well... _dead_."

Without speaking, Frankie straightened herself right next to the girl and gently swept away the strands blocking her face--and saw that her eyes were growing moist.

"All the imaginary friends; they _have_ to care about you, because you're the one who's looking after them. They'd be in utter chaos without you." she sniffed. "And Mac--he definitely cares about you. He views you like a big sister. _He's _the one who convinced me to go look for you."

The 22-year-old delicatedly fiddled with the teary lines streaked across the girl's face. "Yeah, I always thought Mac--" she was cut off by two small arms locking tightly around her midsection, and for nearly a half minute. When she pulled off, make no mistake about it: it was once again Goo's turn to cry.

"..._I_ care about you."

Things between the two would lapse into silence yet again, with Goo tugging and sobbing harshly against Frankie's filthy emerald jacket--and the redhaired woman looking on with a wilted face. She could only politely caress the back of her head for a few minutes before the little girl spoke again.

"Frankie..." she began. "I... I don't have any friends."

And she pressed as thickly as she could against the woman's body, crying even further. More minutes would uneasily pass, in which Goo was now dreading the woman's response--and before she knew it, her mind was knee-deep in a sea of sour self-loathing. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_--oh, she blew it now. With the weak way she worded _I don't have any friends_, clearly Frankie won't be so convinced now. She prepared for the worst as the woman's shadow finally engulfed her, forcibly detaching from her hold on her tummy--

And was surprised when she saw the woman carrying a straight-up smile.

"I guess that explains why you created over seven-hundred imaginary friends."

_...huh?_

Those words were followed by a nice, hearty chuckle--which Goo interpreted as being a stingingly sarcastic putdown. Upon seeing the sudden grievous flush in her expression, Frankie hurried towards the girl and locked her in a fresh embrace, her face sad but still twinkling.

"So _this_ is what it's all about, Goo?" she said stately. "Let's see if I have this right: in your desire to find some sort of company, you wound up negatively affecting somebody who, in ways that you didn't know until now, is quite similar to you."

It took only a few seconds of mind processing for Goo to realize what Frankie meant--and literally nothing afterwards before she continued to speak.

"But now, as I lurch here crying, I realize that my only glimmer of redemption..." she laid a very sincere stare on the girl's eyes. "...is the same person that I treated harshly and even insulted. Or, to put it in a single word--"

And she pulled herself right next to Goo's ear, beaming broadly.

"Soulmates."

More tense seconds crossed; though, this time, they passed by as normal without feeling wretchedly long. When Frankie straightened herself back into the seat, Goo wasn't really surprised but rather a little shellshocked.

"That's what Mac said... well, actually--"

She never finished as the woman's raspy voice rose again. "_You_ suggested to him that you and me might have something in common, huh?"

Goo's eyes shot Frankie a very accusing glare.

"Know-it-all."

"Maybe. Not always; I was fooled by Goofball, after all." Frankie's smile only broadened. "And man oh man--Goo, _you_ think you're Little Miss Hyperactive Loony? That's amateur hour. Wait until the next time grandma bakes those one-of-a-kind cookies."

"Hyper--"

Frankie's face contorted goofily.

"COOKIES! COOKIES! COOKIES! COOKIES, BAH GAWD! IF I CAN HAVE COOKIE, AND YOU CAN HAVE COOKIE, THEN WE CAN ALL HAVE COOKIES! BECAUSE COOKIES ARE THE SOURCE OF ALL THAT IS NOBLE AND SACRED! FORGET 42 AND FORGET CHUCK NORRIS, COOKIES ARE THE REAL MEANING OF LIFE, THE UNIVERSE AND EVERYTHING! EVERYBODY FEARS AND RESPECTS COOKIES--IF YOU'RE NOT WITH COOKIES, THEN YOU'RE MY ENEMY! AND I WILL MAKE SURE THAT I'LL HAVE MINE, EVEN IF IT MEANS FIGHTING TO THE DEATH! BECAUSE WITH THE UTTERMOST SINCERITY OF MY BLEEDING RED HEART, I LOVE COOKIE! YOU LOVE COOKIE! ME LOVE COOKIE! THEY LOVE COOKIE! WE ALL LOVE COOKIE! ALL WORSHIP COOKIES!"

And as the echoes began to vanish, Frankie moved towards the girl with a slightly nervous smile.

"Just a, uhhh, sampler." she said. "Be honest, how was it?"

Goo could hardly talk as she found herself knee-deep in uncontrollable laughter.

"Wow, Frankie..." she settled herself down and stiffled some remaining giggles. "I guess Mac--well, _I_ was right then."

Goo was barely able to conceal the sudden crimson flush in her face, feeling the shadow of Frankie's body consume her and feeling her mouth morph into an all-out grin against her cheeks.

"Can I be your friend then?"

Those words--they surged across her psyche, overwhelming her train of thought and numbing her small but growing body-- and when she regained control, she found herself clutching towards the 22-year-old woman as if it were for dear life.

They were what her heart longed to hear. "Oh yes, _please_..."

Frankie let a few seconds cross before speaking again. "Goo, I guess that solves things; between us anyway. But I want to be sure," she tugged the girl's face to arch straight upwards to her's. "You still forgive me for being a bastard to you?"

"You aren--" Goo was about to counter Frankie's claim when she noted the deep pleading sincerity in her puffy eyes. She simply sighed and then smiled. "Yes, Frankie, I forgive you."

And Frankie locked Goo in perhaps her tightest embrace yet. "And for creating so many imaginary friends--and for stealing from _my_ vocabulary--I forgive you"

By now, the dessert specks of water have been reduced to moisty microscopic mists; which rapidly vanished in the presence of the growing early morning sun. Automobiles soon swooped past the street with increasing frequency, some of them slowing down to stare and balk at how banged up the Foster residence's public bus was--but thankfully, without noticing the two shopworn females.

And neither did they notice the incoming traffic. They were too busy embroiled in their loving clutch on one another, before eventually detaching themselves to instead stare each other down, both of their faces beaming and joyful. This would last for a few minutes--

When the little girl was suddenly thunderstruck.

"Oh, Frankie..." she stammered, but trailed off.

Frankie simply ruffled her hair. "What's on your mind, pal?"

A brief pause would pass before Goo would speak again; in which her face twitched with renewed fright. "You know..." and she stared towards the woman again, but this time with seething lament. "Karoshi."

_Karoshi_. Those seven letters were more than enough to wipe all joy from Frankie's face, and replace it with weariness. "One of your imaginary friends, huh?" she said blankly to the girl.

"Not just one of my imaginary friends," Goo said--and then sniffed. "My _first_."

Frankie grabbed Goo's left arm and rubbed it thoughtfully. "Your original?".

She nodded. "I've had him for a few years. He's the only friend I've had, and even _he_..."

The girl stalled briefly, her already brittle voice crushed like a bug and her eyes narrowing.

"He..."

Goo could not bring herself to finish that sentence. In it's place would arrive swirls of stark maroon accompanied by misty emerald mists tinted with an all-emcompassing parasitic grey; memories of times she thought she was about to abandon forever. Memories she never ever wanted to remember again.

Memories that were about to return anyway.

_"Come on, Goldy, this will be timeless! Silvia, Candice and the rest of these hags will never know what hit them!"_

_"What? WHAT? I'm sorry, you've gone too far this time!"_

_"How? They dipped you in the boy's toilets, forced you to eat worms and ruined your prized Sailor Moon dolls; we haven't gone anywhere near enough as far we're concerned--"_

_"Karoshi, NO. I refuse to sink to your level!"_

_"But how--pardon me for a minute... my_ _level?"_

_"I, I, I-- I'm sorry, I meant _their _level. Slip of the tongue, I swear!"_

_"So they're right? You do think I'm nothing more than scum?"_

_"I didn't mean--"_

_"After all this time? You imagined me, Goldy. You brought me to life. I'm supposed to be your friend, your guardian, your eyes when you're blind; and you just reject my help like that?"_

_"Karoshi--"_

_"For the love of god, I've achieved what oh-so-many others before me have failed to do! This is my magnum opus, my Sgt. Exile's, my fifth! Already cooked and ready to serve! AND YOU WON'T EVEN TAKE A SMALL BITE?"_

_"I don't mean--"_

_"So you will? Will you? Pretty please, with salt and rice on top. We can get even. We can be on top of the world. Please take my hand."_

_"I, I-- I..."_

_"You don't want to? Too sweet and moral to do so, eh? Well, fine. But guess what: THEY'RE RIGHT. Nice girls like you finish last; this is a world where only assertive people triumph. And you don't have one goddamn assertive bone in your body. No, you had to drag me to that Herbie movie instead of seeing the new Batman. You'd rather listen to that crappy Disney CD when you could be rocking out to Guns N' Roses alongside me. You'd rather ogle that stupid outdated poster of Leonardo DiCRAPio when you should have your own freaking boyfriend by now. That's your life, isn't it? Your motto, eh? To drift around, and be pushed around like some stupid piece of crap?"_

_"I--my parents are coming, hide!"_

_"Hide? HIDE? Why should I take that order, you sniveling little bitch? You're not my friend anymore."_

"Goo? GOO!"

Frankie's fright literally fell on deaf ears. Goo lurched blankly against the redhead, her vision becoming wet and moist before blurring into one nauseating swirl, her heart like an iron fist anew and the bowel of her lungs hiccuping like a demon wanting to escape in the worst way possible-- and just as she burst out, she felt the woman's arms wrap fiercely yet affectionately across her small frame, pulling her into the filthy but welcoming lap.

It would be a minute before Frankie gained the courage to speak once more. "Hmmmmm. The guy who invaded my room, stole my panties, knocked me down the main stairway and lied to grandma so I could get into trouble." she said scornfully. "I bet he's really eating away at you, huh."

"He--"

"Goo..." Frankie sighed. "Karoshi is a real pain in the neck to take care of, and--I'm sorry, I'm not going to lie to you--he is really a huge jerk--"

"Jerk?" she interrupted suddenly.

"Goo--"

"How about _'completely worthless'_."

Frankie cringed upon hearing those last few words. "...completely worthless?"

Goo chuckled coldly. "And an asshole."

_What?_ The woman's face flushed in awkward tepidity as she allowed the nastiness of those choice words overtake her. She definitely had a bit of a ungrinded axe with that particular ape, but Goo... this certainly wasn't like her at all.

"Goo, what..."

"You wonder the _real_ reason why me and my parents came here in the first place?" she inquired.

Frankie had no immediate response; that _was_ a very good question... she knew there was this weird new girl in town, and she was meeting with the mansion's residents--before her imagination went into overdrive and everything afterwards became history. She saw very little of her before she noticed the main halls flooded with friends and forcibly kicked her out of the house.

Soon after though, the multicolored ape's fur swirled around her head, and the answer became seethingly obvious. With a six-feet deep grimace, she bore directly into the girl's eyes.

"...to put him up for adoption."

Goo wheezed in affirmation. "And, to adopt a new one."

"Well--" Frankie was left a little awed by the girl's choice of words. "_Adopt a new one_?" she balked. "No offense, Goo, but why did you--"

"Create so many imaginary friends then?" she completed for Frankie, both scowling and saddened. "The friends I met were so wonderful and kind that I was inspired to create my own; partly because I'm just a little girl and sometimes don't know better..." Goo corked her head towards the woman with a deep, softly pleading stare. "Also because my last encounter with Karoshi left me somewhat insane."

To further describe Frankie's--and indeed, Goo's--expressions of disbelief at this point would only complement the most broken of all clocks. "..._insane_?"

Goo nodded and crossed her arms, resting her head's chin at the top. "That girl whom you saw a week ago was a different me. I am joyful and even somewhat annoying; but I am not as bluntly reckless as you originally saw me. Usually, I'm that quiet girl at school, and I only try to display my playful side at home. But Karoshi... well..."

Frankie's fingers fiddled tenderly with the girl's messy strands of hair. "Is it safe to assume that you're back to "normal" again?"

"Mmmhmm," she affirmed. "All thanks to Mac. He was the one who showed me the way. I was waiting outside this bus when I saw him come out. He was really mad at me and, well, finally told me what he really thought about my antics. And that did it. I ran into the house upset and crying, my life flashing before me again..."

"...and he eventually apologized to you, right?"

"Yup. I told him that I fixed his backpack... and that I only created so many friends because I was lonely and a loser. As it turns out, Mac doesn't have any friends at school either."

Frankie hummed a little. "Huh? Really, Mac's so--"

She was cut off by the tightening of her tummy and a trademark smile returning on Goo's face. "And it looks like _you're_ lonely as well."

Frankie could only chuckle heartily at that. "I guess. To be honest, I actually fared pretty well in elementary. I wasn't the most popular, mind you, but the other students liked me, and even found my heritage to be very cool."

"That's nice to hear." Goo perked--albeit a bit sourly.

Noting the twinge of bitterness in the girl's tone, Frankie tugged tightly at her neck, drawing her attention. "But that was before the dark times... before the internet." she giggled for a few seconds before her voice went completely south. "Oh man, you do _not_ want to hear my high school experiences."

Goo allowed herself to lean snuggly against the redhead. "They treated you like trash, huh."

"No, worse. _Much _worse." and with a somewhat exaggerated puff, she pulled the girl mere inches away from her. "Uhhh, Goo, about Karoshi and what he did..."

"Frankie, I--"

"I don't blame you for what he did to me, nor do I blame you for how you currently feel. And that's final."

And she threw her arms around the girl, pulling her into a warm bearhug that would last for over a minute. When they finally pulled off, Goo's timid smile was lost amidst how red her face went.

"So you don't...?"

Frankie laughed. "No, Goo, why? Why _would_ I hold a child responsible for what their imaginary friend did? Poor Mac would be dead if I applied that kind of logic."

The two broke into a nice hearty chuckle--when glimpses of a azure door-shaped blob crashed into Goo's mind. After which, the girl's mouth simply hissed in sedated disbelief.

"Oh yeah. Bloo. He seemed pretty cool when I first met, but that was probably only because he was just as looney as I was when I first came..." she sighed wearily. "He's mean as well."

Goo lowered her head from Frankie's gaze to stare unto the bus floor for a while, not wanting to see her face's reaction; but if the woman's polite body motions were any indication, she really didn't have much room to disagree. For a while, the rising sun cast a shadow of Frankie over her body, whose figure became more and more apparent against the internal side hull structure; not to mention convenient... a little _too_ much. In fact...

Her face blared in numb shock. She dashed herself back towards Frankie and her mouth sprang wide open.

"Hey, Frankie."

"Yeah?" she smiled accordingly.

"Don't you..."

By the second word, Goo realized that this was pretty much a huge mistake. Her frail psyche drowned in stinging regret and self-loathing, completely and utterly hijacking her desire to continue on. It was going to be a question, but not just a question--_the_ question, the one to spark the shatterpoint to this encounter, end the turnaround crying between the two of them and bring things to the next level. She direly wanted to ask that question for once and for all... but she couldn't. She was still a little girl. She'd seen enough emotional turmoil for the last few hours. The grand outburst that would inevitably ensue if she were to ask this, _right_ now--

She simply couldn't. At least, not right now.

Without ever completing her sentence, she simply slid down the chair with an exhausted yet sincere smile.

"Frankie..." she restarted kindly, her eyes now darting hopefully towards the now-full on sunset--her body still quivering a little from the leftover chill and her lips smacking dryly. "Can we return to Foster's now?"

- - -

**A/N - Again, I'm really sorry about the long wait for my next update. I was partly busy with real life matters--and I actually had a radically different version of Chapter Five finished weeks ago, but I deleted most of it and started anew because it went on a entirely different direction than I intended the story to go. I promise--and hope--that Chapter Six won't take as long to be written and posted. This will be the last Goo/Frankie bus chapter, as things will indeed return to the famed house.**

**And I have an important announcement regarding the storyline: ignore the whole "bastard stepchild" bit in Chapter 4. Because in my story, Frankie is NOT one; it was simply a state-of-mind thing that went too far, and I'm sorry for the confusion I caused. I've edited that part to alter the reference so that future readers don't get the wrong idea.**

**See you next chapter!**


	6. She's Here

_Pat Shimble of Channel 3 News reporting here. It is official; Wilson Way last night was subject to the absolute _worst_ showerstorm in over three decades_. _I stand at Warhols Park as I speak; and pardon my brusqueness, but it's COMPLETE PANDEMONIUM._

The tall anthropomorphic hare clad in an expensive tuxedo/hat get-up sat on the desk of his spacious office, sighing as he paid close attention to the old antenna radio which stood right next to the edge. It was a very long time since he last pulled it out of the least opened drawers; even somebody anti-"new age" as him thought he no longer required the services of something so decidedly primitive.

So it was with embarassment that he leant closely onto the table and cradled himself around it as if it were a vulnerable child.

_This is ugly, very ugly. The streets are flooded with water combined from the weather and the sewages, pouring just right over the sidewalks. The entire park is littered with leafs and even branches beaten down by the rain. And I'm not making this up, me and my crew spotted a fair amount of looters on our way here, and one of them actually tried an armed ambush on us. Fellow reporters are contacting me left and right, and they all indicate that it's the same thing on pretty much every single acre in this city. We are getting flooded with reports of injuries just like hospitals are getting flooded with the injured themselves. Sooner or later, the casualties are going to pile up as well._

_And I'm only getting to the best part: City Hall is within my clear eyeshot... or, should I say, a mob-like gathering of angry residents surrounding it's yards, trying to seek entrance into it. Trusted sources confirm that the mayor is awaiting inside, and that he's planning to address the crowd regarding our current strife. But security guards have to calm down the crowd before he can do so, and unfortunately, that doesn't like it's going to happen any time soon. The residents are starting to resist the guard's authority; we have been ordered to back away a fair distance because, quite frankly, riot is expected to break out any second now._

"Herriman?"

The hare jerked around in alert, instinct ignited in a defensive high... and sighed relievedly when he saw it was Madame Foster.

"Eleanor?" he said blankly. "I guess you've heard...?"

"I can hear well enough from the distance, thank you." the old lady retorted somewhat harshly. "The city's a disaster zone. It horrified me to imagine..."

She walked right up to Herriman, raising an arm and gently pressing it against his left eye - where a makeshift bandage patch stood where his monocle once was.

"That poor Frances... out _there_..."

The hare's features contorted with grief--now, more than ever, his heart ached in vain attempt to find the right words. It seemed so deceptively easy; everything does when you're Mr. Herriman. Only passingly, through his long existence, did he fear that reality would eventually catch up to his trademark arrogance one day, and that it would be negligible when the moment came - which made right now only even more painful.

And right now, it was a nightmare for him to even meet the gaze of his creator. Those eyes, so beady and so beautiful - and they were now entwined in blatant shades of red. And the horror in her face, her quivering fingers and sedated glare--

Herriman laid an arm on her face as well. "Hope. That's all we can do now."

"Hope?" The old lady eyed her creation quizzically.

His voice began to crack as he cradled her in a tight hug.

"Just... _hope_..."

Their embrace would live for only a few seconds when another voice filled the hallowed room.

"Mr. Herriman? Madame Foster?"

The two of them flipped around in surprise. Quickly afterwards, though, Herriman recomposed himself as he saw a very tall stalk-eyed imaginary friend stride in. "Master Wilt?"

The friend sighed. "We need you in the foyer right now."

"Well, why?" Mr. Herriman inquired--when it came dawning on him.

And once it did, the expression in the red-stitched friend turned a deep pallid. "She's here."

- - -

**A/N - Over three weeks of waiting for an update... for _this_? If you're angry at me right now, I can understand why and I don't blame you. But let me explain:**

**I have a general idea of where I'm going with this story, but when it comes to the full details, I make it up as I go - which is an agonizingly slow process for me. I took a bit of a break after Chapter 5... and it so happens that when that break ended, me and my family are set to head out to Disneyland for a week. I'd notify you in the A/N of Chapter 5; except that the trip wasn't confirmed until AFTER I posted it.**

**So, this isn't really a chapter but a small "bite" of what's yet to come. The REAL next update will come once I return from my trip - and maybe even sooner, if there are internet-capable computers available to me. To those who have been faithfully following this story, I can promise you that it will be a doozy.**

**I'm really sorry that there's been so many long pauses between updates. But I can assure you that I won't abandon it, and that it WILL be finished. I just need to take the appropiate amount of time. Right now, it's pretty much taken longer than I expected, but I will continue on. Again, this story serves to shake off my writing rust, and hopefully, future multi-chapter endeavors of mine will be completed in shorter time.**

**Thanks very much for your patience!**


	7. Doubt

_"Wait a minute, Frances _and_ the little girl?"_

_"But Master Gaga is currently in the guest room along with Master Mac!"_

_"Nope, she's currently waiting in the staircase as well. She left the house without notifying the others."_

_"During such terrible weather? Without telling us? I don't believe it!"_

_"I'm afraid she did. They both look very exhausted and worse for wear. Just wait until you see them."_

_"Oh dear."_

_"But, but..."_

_"Miss Frances said that... well... after what she said to that poor girl..."_

_"Goddamnit, please don't recall that."_

_"Oh Martha, I was just saying, no need to get hissy--especially that we now know she's safe and alive."_

_"But--"_

_"Just for your information, the two of them seem to be getting along now."_

_"Wait, _what_?"_

_"Madame Foster, Mr. Herriman... if I had to guess, it looks like Goo had a little "talk" with Frankie. Wait here."_

- - -

Goo Goo Gaga sat on the lowest rung of the spacious central stairway, hearing the faint but growing voices soar across the pale Saturday sunlight in which the adoption home's foyer currently bathe. A mild feeling of relief swelled in her chest, savoring the fact that she was no longer within the hazardous confines of the public bus - which drowned utterly within the sensation of dread that now overwhelmed her entire body.

The girl's eyes softly craned towards the left, from which she felt a larger shadow cast over; only to see two slender legs streaked in dry filth. Though her left hand was still locked in that firm grip, Goo saw that the young lanky woman was now standing upright with eyes that were as attentive as they were exhausted.

Eyes that glared right towards the direction from the ominous shadows that lurked in waiting.

The first of which; a very tall crimson-stitched fellow with stalk eyes arched straightly above his furred oval-curved head.

"Goo." he said plainly.

"Yes...?" the girl inquired, kind but faintly.

The non-human being would no further respond to the child - as he now shifted his attention to the full-grown figure that stood next to her.

His eyes went completely cold. "..._Frankie_."

It would be a long while before any of them would speak again. He just stood there with progressive horror, examining what had become of the young woman he'd known for years: her once-sparkling red hair was mucked and beat down to shoulder-length, dripping liquid filth onto the stair rungs; the trademark emerald jacket and purple skirt were still intact, but now soaked in rain water, ground dirt, specks of dust and a unsavory concoction of stenches arising from every side of her body; and her skin was either wintry pale or - he began to slightly wince - caked in stale iron blood across her legs and hands. No longer desiring to linger on her lack of physical health, he directed his gaze straight towards her face, bracing himself with a fairly deep breath.

And reacted with an open grimace. Her nose, crooked and breathing erratically. Her eyes, bloodshot in the brightest imaginable shade of red. Her mouth, thinned sharply and with a trail of red dried across the left end of her lips. Her facial skin trickled with more of the weather's filthy roundup, was so thin that he swore he could see her cheekbones sticking out, and seemed so flaky that one good punch would be good enough to kill her this instant. And worst of all--amidst it all, _despite it all_--

She was smiling.

Battered. Broken. Fragile. Saddened and entwined with remorse, to be sure.

And _smiling_.

"Hiya, Wilt."

The foyer grew so silent from the agonizing pause that the resulting echo from the woman's voice seemed to swallow the entire hallowed mansion. Those words, delivered so calm and modestly - and they struck icy daggers in the heart of the figure named Wilt. "I..." He tried desperately. His lungs ached to find the right words, but all he could muster were hisses as erratic and husked as the woman's breathing.

Finally, he sighed and placed a quiet foot on the bottom rung. "I guess I should just leave you two alone with them." And he shifted his attention from the two girls to the slightly altercated staircase he now swiftly made his way across.

"_Them_? Who?" Goo asked, in a bizzare round of confusion that lasted all of two seconds - when the answer dawned on her at the exact same time she stared directly towards it.

From the same direction in which Wilt arrived now came a old lady of short stature with wrapped-up silver hair and a very tall hare in a elegant tuxedo/hat combo. Except now, all happiness was pruned from both of their faces, replaced with what could be novicely described as sedated shock.

"Miss Frances," the rabbit named Mr. Herriman began, in the most bittersweet of baritones. "Welcome back."

- - -

A dull light filled the whole of what happened to be Foster's spacious main office suite. Whatever yellow and blue shine could be seen from the large window vista was mellowed into a slightly colorful gray thanks to the parade of clouds. Under these circumstances, Mr. Herriman's bare parts would blend seamlessly against his desk's backdrop - if it weren't for the fact that his white fur was accompanied by a row of purple gashes around his arms, and that dried blood was visibly splattered around the makeshift bandage patch covering the eye that once held his trademark monocle.

For once, his desk was devoid of all his everyday work materials; papers, schedule notes, quills et al. The only thing present as the two weathered girls strode in was an antique antenna radio, and even that was for brief, as Mr. Herriman slid it into an opened desk before shutting it firm enough to cause a brief bang to snap across the room. It would be enough to wake both of them from their walking trance and attract them towards him.

"Si-sit down." he spoke, beginning with a stutter that was quickly suppressed by the fragments of confidence slowly inching back into his tone. He motioned towards the other, far younger of the two females. "Both of you."

There were two seats to be found in the office other than Mr. Herriman's... and one of them happened to be an old rocking chair occupied by Madame Foster, placed right next to her creation's side. This would leave the typical lone visitor chair, which the young woman wearily slouched against as the little girl became aware of the discreptancy. Her mouth sprang open to speak - when the redhead's voice beat it to the punch. "Uh, Mr. H," she spoke shyly. "There's no seat for _her_."

"I--" the hare's voice trailed off as quickly as it began. He stared dumbly into the woman's eyes before slowly slunking down and burying both of his paws around his face, the small slits of his fingers bristling with the inaudible remnants of his embarassed cursing. Such a blatant error from his part, especially during such an important moment. Just plain stupid. Stupid, stupid, stup--

And he pulled back the paws and recomposed himself as those words sprang into his conscience.

..._such an important moment_...

The full extent of right now harked back to him.

He would linger on the trail of filth streaked across his tidy room for some seconds, following it towards the end destination; and at last, he found himself face-to-face with the woman, and took a thorough look at her. Nothing could possibly brace his unshielded eye for what lay before him.

Frances Foster.

On his office.

Sitting.

Coughing.

Wheezing.

A wreck.

A complete, utter, _perfect_ wreck.

The messy swoon of crimson hair and her dirtied green jacket/purple skirt attire were all that served to remind him that this was indeed the granddaughter of his creator. Everything else was unrecognizable. Completely familiar and yet so unrecognizable. She--well, she... why...

Mr. Herriman thought back to just a minute or two ago, to when she pointed out that utterly trivial hold-up. Her voice. Reaping the remnant shards that coiled in his eardrums, he realized it still bore all her trademarks and touches: casual, sensible, mature, matter-of-fact yet kindly - even with the newfound tinge of raspiness and gruff, of dread and fear.

Bitterness and sorrow.

Although his monocle eye was wounded - possibly beyond repair - the hare's other eye was still in fine enough condition aside from sore veiny lines. But the woman's pair eyes had a few _white_ veiny lines - set sparsely across what was a frightengly perfect tone of bloodcurling red, so much that they creased slightly but noticeably across her eyelids. All of this, it became apparent as he bore further into her... as she bore into _him_.

Finally, this round of silence would be broken. Not by the young redhead. Not by the hare, or the elder woman--

By the little girl.

"I guess I should explain this now." she said, now drawing Herriman and Mme. Foster's attention away from the woman and towards her, both of which appeared to be more than a little taken aback partly because they'd forgotten that somebody else was accompanying the woman - also because of the unexpected rush of maturity in her tone.

"Explain?" Herriman gasped. "Master Gaga, _you_ were supposed to be with Master Mac. He told me that you would be in the main guest bedroom with him, as a result of... you... she..." his eye examined the girl's sincerely grim face, contrasting Frances' blank glare--which looked so forced that it's wrinkled lines appeared on the last throes of containing an emotional outburst. Eventually, Herriman began to feel as if he put the final touches on a 100-piece jigsaw puzzle--and then discovered it was only part of an even bigger puzzle.

Upon noticing, Goo Goo Gaga just flashed a weak smile. "I left the room."

"I know that already, Master Wilt told me." the hare inquired. "The question is why. Why did you leave during such awful weather? Me and Madame were grief-stricken as it was, I'd hate to imagine what would happen if we learned of your disappearance earlier. With all due respect," and his eye went cold. "It's a blessing that you're not _dead_."

"Well," Goo replied. "I took one of your umbrellas before leaving."

Aware that the little girl's clothes were thoroughly soaked and her hair still dripping erratically, Herriman didn't appear very convinced. "Really? You don't look awfully dry to me."

"I..." there would be no quick response this time; lines of red streaked across Goo's pale cheeks as she struggled for words. "...dropped it."

_Big mistake_, the girl frowned. The moment she finished, Goo flinched some inches back, feeling Mr. Herriman's hazy shadow grow over her. "_Dropped_ it?" he barked. "Master Gaga - you're even more of a nutcase than I thought! We're currently under a huge crisis, and you just choose to waltz around?"

The sudden welling of tears in Goo's eyes went unnoticed within the specks of rain in her face. "I... I'm--"

"Sorry?" Herriman sneered. "Oh, 'sowwy' yourself'. I'm having enough trouble as it is dealing with your reckless imagination, little girl. And then this happens. Why, just wait until your parents--"

"_SHUT UP!_"

All of a sudden, a raspy voice rocked the office like a gunshot. The hare glared at the girl in bewilderment; but merely saw a saddened face whose features slightly twitched in instinct. He turned to just a few feet sideways, towards the seat... and, with a sudden bottomless sensation across his heart, saw that Frances Foster had risen to her feet: she leant firm onto the desk, her fist slammed down onto it so tightly that cracks poured in the foundation.

That would be enough.

Mr. Herriman's stern face was reduced to plain fright. "Miss Frances! I--"

"You want to know what happened, eh fuzzbutt?" _I'll_ tell you, and I'll make it as brief as possible." Her tone was barely able to contain the emotional whirlwind that violently grumbled inside. After the deepest of breaths and quick sharp glances at the hare and Madame Foster(Who'd remained quiet in her seat with frightened paralysis), Frankie would continue to speak in her gravely tone.

"I was in the bus. From the moment I ran away to now, I was there, this whole time. I'm sure you would've looked for me there, if it weren't for the crowd of clients, or that severe rainstorm. I did not leave for somewhere else, and I certainly didn't die - though I could've." Noting the darkened looks on their faces, Frankie's voice became sincerely somber. "I could've, if it weren't for her." And her right arm detached from the grimy jacket, the index uncurling from it's hand - pointing straightly towards the dark-skinned girl next to her.

"She went to look for me." she said, quite simply and directly. "Yes... she."

_She_.

Any remaining anger in Mr. Herriman's expression was no longer present. With trepidation, he turned back towards the little girl, who was barely able to mantain a blank face. "Master Gaga, is this true...?"

Goo nodded. "Pretty much."

Madame Foster gained enough courage to slowly rise from the rocking chair to get a closer view of her granddaughter. "The little girl talked with you?" she spoke sadly. "The same girl you singled out for insult--"

The elder stopped when Mr. Herriman cocked his head towards her with a harsh glare. She flinched, well-aware that she said something she shouldn't have... and saw that his face deteoriated into a frown.

"Very ironic, isn't it?"

Frankie would never respond to either of their queries. She would instead continue in her semi-awkward position of leaning towards the desk, with both hands clasping at the edge - utterly ignoring the revolt of pain from the many cuts - alternating gazes with her supervisor and her grandmother. Grizzled eyes, exhausted, hardened, soured.

Glittering with tears that stood clearly from the specks of raindrops across her battered features.

"I... I'm..."

Again, she would not finish. The room was swallowed by the silence; moments of complete silence, interrupted by the gnawing of Frankie's nails into the desk's hull, of her slow but growing seesaw sensation, and her shaking arms and wobbling knees, as well as the continuing drips of watery filth onto the once compulsively-clean floor - all the while letting out slight hisses in her attempts to _find those right words_--

When, all of a sudden and with nary a warning, her knees buckled harshly. Weakened as she already was, the redhead basically had no way of pulling herself back up. Her body slunked around, until her legs were widely spread around the floor structure; and with the hare and grandmother denied from her sight, Frankie found herself at the same height as the girl.

"Frankie!" Goo cried out, hurrying onto the fallen woman. "Are you alright? Tell me you'll be alright! Please..."

Frankie just cast an arm over the girl, and laid out a bittersweet smile.

"I'm sorry." she sniffed. "To you, and to everybody."

And she crumpled weightlessly onto the floor, her mind lapsing into complete darkness.

- - -

_This is Mr. Herriman, and I have an important announcement:_

_Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends will be shutting it's doors to the outside world for an indefinite amount of time. This means that there won't be any adoptions, new residents or any of the other usual activities today, nor will there be such until I give further notice. Of course, considering the plight that has befallen all of Wilson Way, we would've nonetheless had to close down for the moment - but it turns out, strife has engulfed our staff._

_At precisely 8:00pm yesterday, Miss Frances Foster had a massive and public emotional breakdown, stemming from the plain fact that her duties as caretaker have turned her very bitter. There were many present when the unfortunate event occured, but for those unaware, I'll make it as brief as possible: she assaulted yours truly with a barrage of punches, slapped Madame Foster across the face and broke into a venomous screed that utterly denounced her heritage and all of our residents. Shortly afterwards, she ran away and wasn't seen for the rest of the night._

_Frances returned just this morning - she happened to be hiding on the bus - and met with me and Madame on my office, to reconcile. Due to the harshness of the weather conditions last night, Frances was in a very unhealthy state... so much that the meeting didn't last long before she fainted of exhaustion._

_As I speak, Madame Foster and I are preparing to place Frances into her Pontiac Firebird. We will be leaving so that Frances can be treated at the nearest hospital. In our absence, Master Wilt will be in charge of mantaining the house. Perhaps for the entirety of the day - we don't know how long it'll be until this is settled, and how much the current barren conditions will affect us along the way._

_Simply put, we don't know what will happen from now on._

- - -

As she wait within the pallid shadows of the mansion's garage, Goo didn't know what to make of that intercom speech. It wasn't going to be known for being eloquent and well-planned; she could hear the anxious hops of Mr. Herriman's from the distance literally the moment after that harrowing final sentence. By the time he arrived, an unconscious Frankie was already loaded inside the car with Madame Foster right beside the opened driver's door.

"That was..." she whispered, also looking a little stunned of the speech's content.

"The residents have been alerted, Master Wilt's been notified, everything's set." Mr. Herriman said, ignoring the perplexed look in the old lady's face, and instead urging her with a tense face as he swiftly made his way towards the car's other side. "Let's go."

"Herriman," her stare became very stern. "Did you have to scare--"

"COME ON!"

And she budged quickly. "Ok, ok!"

Everything was happening in an uneasy flash: the gate was only a quarter raised when the rabbit claimed shotgun position, Frankie lay motionless across the middle and Madame Foster's prodded the set of keys and was about to slam the driver's door shot--when the little girl, without having fully gathered her thoughts, placed her arm to stop it from doing so.

"Miss Gaga?" the elder said bewildered.

"Madame Foster, Mr. Herriman," Goo said in a shaky silence. "Won't I be going with you?"

She stammered timidly, her mouth slowly opening to speak. "Well, I--"

And the rabbit's voice quickly filled the car. "No. You stay out of this."

"_What?_" The girl was very taken aback. "But, Mr. H--"

"You're staying with Master Mac and the friends. And that's _final_." Without even noting the sudden shock in the girl's face, he swiftly turned to his creator. "Time to leave, Martha."

"I think we--"

"NOW!"

And Madame Foster would interrupt no longer; she shut the door from Goo's weakened grip and activated the engine. With the gateway barely opened, the Pontiac slowly but firmly streaked through it and away from the little girl's eyeshot. All that was left was a trail of engine smoke, which was thick--and unwilling to easily vanish amongst the outside world's barren moistness. When it dissipated at last, the car was nowhere in sight.

A single tear streamed down her face. "Goodbye, I guess."

- - -

The girl could not believe it.

She found herself in the bottom rung of the foyer's central staircase - only this time, it was near-literally teeming with many of the house's imaginary residents; pouring up and down from the sides and hurrying left and right behind her back. A nervous buzz filled the air. Many of the imaginary friends were vocally communicating with one another: whispers of what exactly was going on between the staff, talks of what they were going to do for the day--and cries. Panicked cries. Cries of defeat, cries of armageddon. Cries that declared the end of Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends.

And for the moment, it had escaped her.

All of it.

Numb. That was the best way to describe the current state of her mind. The foyer's palettes blended seamlessly with the colorful array of beings that currently strode it. The clockwork of noises, powerful elsewhere, did not reach the girl's own two ears. For they were shut down. Shut down, just like all of her other senses. Right now, she was contained.

Contained all to herself.

What she did see, it self-contorted into different things entirely; the wintry light and the remnant swirls of some random huge furred friend mended to form a barely-recognizable representation of Mr. Herriman, and the hallowed scratches across the handles united with a very stout racoon-like being to create Madame Foster in her veined eyes. And what she did hear, well, what could've been the confused remarks of two fellow friends changed into distant echoes of moments ago.

_"No, you stay out of this."_

_"But, Mr. H--"_

_"You're staying with Master Mac and the friends--and that's _final_."_

They looped. For what seemed like infinity, the three sentences ran repeated circles across her head, each new completed lap only harboring more unvarnished seethe. Her brain drummed at the pace of her heartbeat, and the blood felt as scathing as lava and as caked-dry as paint - and yet flowed onwards at the speed of sound. Her soul and demeanor were so furiously enraged that they became as thick as steel, but her heart... oh, her heart--

It was broken.

"How could they?" Goo was unaware that her lips just uttered these three words, but they nonetheless burnt deeply inside her.

Madame Foster and Mr. Herriman--how _could_ they?

Now thinking back to the brief meeting at the office, Goo realized it was an unmitigated disaster. After all, she's the one who decided to risk her life by venturing into such callous weather to find Frankie. _She's_ the one who convinced the woman that that maybe life wasn't so hopeless and that the residents of Foster's didn't take her for granted - even despite having known them for only a week! Whatever silly rules broken by the girl be damned; what mattered is that the matriarch's great offspring and the mansion's housekeeper was safe and alive. Surely, Goo would've added much needed mending between Frankie and the two of them; show them that they did care.

But what she saw was different: the elderly lady seemed weary instead of worried, and oddly never did show any genuine reaction to the fact that her granddaughter was left a physical and emotional trainwreck. And Mr. Herriman seemed less interested with the well-being of the very person who kept the place he presided over running as he was with the circumstance that his rigid style of living was about to be put on hold for an indefinite amount of time. At no point, not _once_, was there anything resembling compassion or remorse in his scruffy voice. That intercom announcement had no iota of sincerity to it. To her, it was a slightly more considerate way of saying that they might need to replace one of their staff soon.

_They're concerned about you, Frankie_... that sentence howled inside Goo, all the way down to her toe's hairs--except the feeling of warm fuzziness turned a complete one-eighty. It was no longer reassuring, but instead cruel and mocking. All those words; so comforting, sincere, forgiving and accepting... and they were going to be rendered pointless? After all she went through?

Goo spent this entire night making that point clear, trying to restore peace and redeem herself for her wrongdoings. She thought the strife was settled and the personal demons quelled. She thought everything would return to normal. She thought that, after years of bullying and name-calling and mindgames--_she_ would find some sort of sanity in her short but fractured life.

But she was dead wrong. The name "Goo Goo Gaga" was to be forever associated with some retarded girl with a hopelessly overactive imagination. Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends was nothing more but a glorified nuthouse, a sanctuary for the rejects of a concept that itself is widely rejected by modern society. And, the worst of it all--

She would never see Frankie again. Nope, not at this point. _Never_.

So it would end in vain. Her so-called soulmate was an hallucination that would be shortlived. And all of these other people, human or imaginary, they were nothing more than... well--

And before she could go on any further, her head bounced some inches to the left. Her cheek at first was unfeeling, but seconds later, small but growing aching sensations spread around the moist-wrinkled features. Goo quickly learnt that something impacted firmly with her face, something very much resembling a hand.

_Her_ hand.

The numbing sensation that shackled her was gone.

"Nonsense, nonsense!" she sternly repeated to herself, able to hear herself speak.

Realizing everything she'd just thought, Goo couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. That "_Madame Foster and Herriman don't care about Frankie_"? Ridiculous. Of course they care about Frankie! Their concern may have not been readily apparent, but they were so focused on getting the unconscious woman to the hospital that they didn't want to waste precious time with pointless mourning. She'd wanted to accompany them to the hospital, and she _was_ very disappointed that she wasn't... but maybe fate simply didn't want her to. Maybe Goo's role today was done with, and it was up to them to mend the wounds on their own.

_Glad to have that out of my way_, she thought with a faint but genuine smile. She didn't exactly feel fully relieved, but at least she didn't feel so needlessly uneasy now. Amongst all this, Goo saw that she now stood at the center of the foyer's staircase, with second rows attached to both sides. She didn't move at the moment, nor did she try to--they were still overflowing with imaginary friends, hurrying down and up, zagging to the left and right. Gulping in whatever remained of the fuzzy breeze not soaked in by them, she took a clearer look, with heightened attention and a sharpened eye--

And suddenly became very ill.

There were indeed whispers and husked-down discussions about what was going on at the moment, but it wasn't proper, it was misinformed views and outright lies taken as the truth - merely what _they_ thought was going on. Some did talk about what they were going to do amidst the pandemonium, but it wasn't terribly helpful; most of them considered leaving while the entire staff was wiped out at the moment. And this is where her bowels began to quiver: some of them spoke with contempt and vitriol so wide open, that they seemed to thoroughly enjoy it. It was almost as if they'd been holding it back for years, and relished that they were finally alloted to make their true feelings clear, with the apparent bane of their existences "taken care of". It was, as if--

Voices. Right next to Goo, they howled.

"Good old Frances finally croaked, I take it?" said a friend with a vertical arrow-shape and dullish grey palette. The round crimson-furred being next to him stepped in with a hearty nod. "Wasn't the scribbles incident many years ago also thanks to her--?" and the two of them were interrupted by a tiny emerald stick-shaped figure with one eye. "As well as the cookie binge, Bendy's unpunished spree, the fact that she's 22 yet _still_ has no boyfriend and--OMIGOD, LOOK AT ME, I'M A WACKY MAKE-EM-UP!" The stick friend threw his arms into the air to imitate as if he were knocking an object onto the floor, and then plunged them onto his frame to scratch himself while his tongue stuck out in a buffoonish fashion, illiciting chuckles from the other two.

"Quite frankly, my friends--I'm not surprised." the figure said, reverting his goofy pose into a callous smile. "That girl is a certified nutjob."

And they rejoined themselves in their teasing remarks and cruel laughter, not caring about whomever else heard them, not caring that a certain girl saw and heard them in full from a fair distance - or that she would've probably throttled all of them if she weren't crippled by the emotional ennui.

_"...that girl is a certified nutjob..."_

_"...certified nutjob..."_

_"...**nutjob**..."_

Nutjob. How ironic. How oh-so bitterly ironic.

Goo wanted to escape all of this, and badly. The brusque footsteps. The disappointed scoffs and whiny refrains. The inconsiderate one-liners and self-important speeches disowning the place willing to give them a home when the rest of the world didn't want anything to do with them. The beggars. The ingrates. The spoiled brats.

Oh, there wouldn't be any more of the numbness, but right now she longed for it: the disappointment that reigned in Goo's soul was barely summarizable, and would only add further to the bloat of this current long-winded prose. Because that's what she was feeling at the moment; bloat and confusion. All that needs to be said is that the girl couldn't believe it. She _couldn't_. It was something she didn't want to come to terms with--but quite frankly, that's what they were. All that night spent trying to convince the poor woman that life didn't hate her so much, but now she was gone, taken away from her. All that night spent trying to argue that the imaginary friends were something worth sticking it out for--but now, as she stood small and helpless on the square center of the foyer staircase's two-way area, she realized that they... that they... that _they_--

No.

She didn't want to think so. As much as it looked otherwise, she couldn't.

Goddammit, she _didn't_.

And it was a good thing she would keep up the undercurrent of self-doubting inside herself running because, all of a sudden and much to her relief, she felt the familiar chestnut brown hair flicker softly across her face and mature yet innocently childlike words whispered in her ear - her body had been clutched by two small but loving arms.

- - -

"Oh Goo, you're alright! I was really starting to worry..."

Eight-year-old Mac Warhols was overwhelmingly joyed as he tightly hugged the girl. Never mind that about hundreds of questions crisscrossed through his puny body, or the accompanying thick fog of confusion engulfing his soul, because he was reunited with her. Yes, her; that obnoxiously loveable same-aged girl who, in just a week, has become perhaps his closest human friend. After a nice long minute, Mac broke the embrace with a childlike jitter typical of his age.

And then he saw her face.

"Oh dear." the elation in his tone faded. "Goo..."

She sighed. "I..."

Goo trailed off without finishing, and slowly lowered her gaze onto the floor. Quickly noticing this, Mac latched onto the girl's arms and tugged himself firmly but gently within earshot.

"Wilt woke me up just right now. He told me that Mr. Herriman did a speech over the intercom, that he and Madame were going to leave for the day--with _her_..."

He lined his index against the girl's chin to raise it upwards, but there was no need because she'd raised it herself, meeting the boy's eyes with a less-than-enthused glare.

"Her?"

"Frankie, of course." Mac said, his nervous smile quickly turning grim. "...Wilt said that you came here with her."

"Well, yes--" Goo said with exhausted nonchalancy - and then felt an utter frown press against her left ear.

"You left the house, didn't you?"

His voice echoed into infinity.

_"...you left the house, didn't you..."_

_"...**didn't you**...?"_

He knew.

Goo backed away from Mac, lining herself against the wall. _He knew_, she thought, over and over and over again with a forlorn face. With shoulders sagged and eyes drooped back down to the floor, she nodded as to say yes to his question. But it was, of course, pointless - she was too tired to even squirm as the boy's shadow slowly cosume her.

"_You_ talked to Frankie." he said, not as a question but as plain fact.

Goo nodded again. "Yes..."

Mac stalled for a few seconds. Even though her eyes were fixed on the floor - more specifically the boy's feet, which oddly were clothed in only a pair of grey socks - she could still read him clearly. The pain in his expression, the retracted hooves of his breathing, the dreaded eye-before-the-storm calmness of his motions as he plunged both of his arms to the girl's sides, about to snap--

And instead clutched her in a very affectionate bearhug.

"OH, GOO! THAT'S GREAT!" Mac exclaimed with sudden joy. "I knew it, IT WAS YOU--IT _WAS_ YOU!"

Goo was utterly shocked. "Huh? What do--" before she could finish, she felt her midsection tightened by the two arms - and and an intense moistening sensation on her left cheek. It was a kiss, pure and simple.

Her first.

And then her second. Then her third. And then another, and another, and another. An uncontrollable salvo of kisses.

If his demeanor was anything to go by, Mac was overjoyed. "You sneak, you dirty little sneak!" he let go of his grip with a smug smile, barely caring about the blankness in the girl's expression. "But you're a _good_ sneak! Oh, that was _wonderful_!"

As Mac would settle down a little, Goo finally found some words to speak - in an utterly shocked tone. "Aren't you mad at me?"

The boy took all of two seconds to ponder these words before locking her in yet another embrace-and-smile combo. "Mad? Goo, I'm proud of you!" he said. "Frankie is back, and everything will return to how it once was! And it's all thanks to you..."

Goo's only response to the continued rush of joy was an unwilling chuckle. "Well..."

"What?" All of a sudden, some of the elation in Mac's face faded. "Everything _did_ go well, right?"

Upon noticing - Goo somewhat convincingly forced a smile. "Yes, it did." she assured, and the beam in the boy's face returned. And she took a deep breath and gathered her memories to speak them in the briefest way possible. "Frankie was hiding in the bus this whole time. I talked to her; it wasn't easy, but I eventually convinced her to come back. She..." Goo withdrew a little. "...told me many things."

Mac cocked an eyebrow. "What things?"

"Many - don't worry, they weren't anything bad." she quickly pointed out. "In fact, she said that she..." and blush lines formed across her thickly grim face.

He closed in with a curious smile. "That she loves you? In a sisterly way, I mean?"

And the lines burst into a crimson sea that covered nearly her entire face. "Yeees..."

Dusting off the moist strands of hair to kindly curl his arm around her neck, Mac chuckled. "Well then, what's the problem?"

Goo simply hung her head and stared squat onto the floor. "She _fainted_, Mac."

"Fainted?" he asked somewhat confusedly. "When?"

"In Mr. Herriman's office." she said. "He and Madame Foster were there, Frankie was talking with them. She was just too exhausted at the moment..."

Mac rubbed his chin for a few seconds in thoughtful contemplation. "I guess that explains why Wilt said they "loaded" Frankie into the car rather than her consciously accompanying them."

Goo smiled weakly. "Yeah..."

Things lapsed into a brief but painstaking silence. The traffic of imaginary friends that surrounded them seemed to be thinning somewhat; the familiar tall, crimson-stitched being known stood near the foyer entrance, with things comfortably under his newly appointed control - he gave directions and spoke to the friends in a firm but highly optimistic and uplifting way. Eventually, he turned his gaze to the middle of the staircase and motioned towards the two kids. "Mac! Goo!"

The boy smiled in return. "Hey, Wilt!"

Goo, however, gave a lazy shrug. "Yeah..."

Wilt would not really notice the girl's response as his attention dove once more into the continuing wave of residents, but Mac seemed very displeased by the girl's extremely half-hearted tone. "What was that about?"

"Huh?" Goo inquired. "What do you mean?"

Mac's face blanked. "You know exactly what I mean. Goo - is something wrong?"

"Wrong? How?"

"Perhaps in the way you're acting," he scowled suddenly. "Or perhaps the way you completely shrugged off Wilt, perhaps?"

The sudden accusingness in his voice struck fright in the girl's heart. "Mac, I'm ok--"

"No, you're not." and he closed in with steadfast swiftness. "Tell me, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I--"

"Please, tell me--"

And without warning, Goo latched onto the boy and hugged him very tightly.

"Ah yes, I'm glad that Frankie's ok!" she said with a suspiciously sudden - and forced - surge of joy and cheeriness. "See, Mac, I _am_ happy! Why would I--"

UUMPH.

Goo flew a few inches away, barely managing to land on her feet. When she straightened herself and instinctedly met the boy's eyes - pangs of intense chills instantly shot up and down her spine - she realized Mac was now bordering on irate.

"No, Goo," he gritted. "There's something you're not telling me. And _I want to know_. Please, tell me." and both of his eyes lurched coldly. "_Now_."

That did it. Goo would hesitate no longer; she guiltily dropped her gaze and slumped in defeat.

"You want to know what's wrong?" she asked simply.

Taking in his own row of breath, Mac settled down a bit and reapproached the girl, this time with considerate kindness. "Of course..."

"Let me guess." Goo retorted. "You think that I don't care about Frankie."

Upon hearing, Mac appeared a little startled. "Well, I--"

"If you want to know, Mac--_no_. That is not the problem. I care about Frankie. A lot." she glanced to the left and right, loomed softly into Mac's eyes - and sighed. "..._too_ much."

"Care too much?" Mac was taken aback. "How?"

She ignored that question, and instead threw in her own: "Do _you_ care about Frankie?"

The absurdity of these words caused Mac to throw his arms into the air. "What? Goo--of course I care about Frankie!" he bristled. "Wasn't I acting very giddy about her return just moments ago? Seriously--"

"I wanted to be sure." Goo interrupted, now with a somewhat odd smile. "Because..." She was about to abruptly raise her finger and point it at a random member of the still-sizeable crowd of imaginary beings that surrounded them--when he appeared.

It was a small blob-shaped being with an azure cover and eyes that were very wide and sparkling - even as they were actually somber as he shyly approached the boy, with what looked like a cellphone in his stubby hands.

"Here, Mac." he said in a glaring way rare of his mischievous, unaware of a particular little girl just a few feet shy from him. "I changed the ringtone toRamones. Not so sure if that's the one she originally had, but that's the only punk rock song I could find amidst the available ringtones."

"Huh?" Mac appeared a little confused. "Bloo, why did you give me Frankie's cellphone?"

"So that _you_ can give it to her. If you excuse me..." was his immediate response. He then turned around to leave as if nothing happened - but was swiftly blocked by the boy's hand grabbing at his small figure and yanking him back.

"No, _why_?" he demanded.

Red lines creased across his blue tint. "Uhhh, I have to go--"

"BLOO!"

"Nothing! I just that'd you--"

It was very sudden. Goo stood there a while, watching the bantering between the two beings degenerate into depressingly pointless bickering. She examined the confusion in the boy... and bore into the creation named Bloo, whose attempts at looking innocent and well-meaning were about as unconvincingly hidden as the sudden surge of rage swelling inside her. So much, in fact, that the moment Mac seemed to return to Goo, he was about to speak--

When she beat it to him - eyes bristling with pent-up anger. "_I'll_ tell you what happened: Bloo changed the ringtone of Frankie's cellphone."

Mac initially was startled by the assertiveness of the girl, but was more puzzled than shocked by her words. "What do you mean?"

On the other hand, Bloo looked like an iron stake had suddenly been driven into his heart. "_WHAT?_"

Although Goo kept his attention fixed on Mac, she seemed to bitterly relish the horror in the blob's face. "One of Frankie's friends called while it was changed." And at last, she spun towards Bloo, wagging a violent finger at him - her face a sickly swirl of victory and defeat. "_You_ changed her ringtone to Black Eyed Peas."

More silence between the three of them. For Goo, the seconds crossed very tensely, rows of scalding sweat rising from the remnant drips of rain water on her blanching face. For Mac, however, it was just more confusion with hints of a goofy chuckle dancing on his lips.

"Black Eyed Peas?" the boy inquired. "That sounds more like a prank than anything--"

And as fast as light, things clicked into place and realization dawned on him. His face rapidly withered as he hurried to meet the gaze of his small but high-maintenance friend - and saw that _his_ expression was already deeply sullen.

"Bloo... _you_..."

The living blob's mouth sprang open to speak on his behalf but, once again, it was the girl's voice that arose first.

"Bloo set it up in hopes of the cellphone ringing in public." Goo's eyes lowered darkly. "...he configured it so that the call itself would be heard out loud."

Somewhat baffingly, the influx of residents seemed to greatly narrow at this point, heightening the tension that now clearly rubbed off from all three. Mac was briefly tempted to ask the girl for more specifics, but he didn't need to; because he'd put the pieces together himself. And what he saw was something that horrified him to the core.

At the very least, Bloo did not try to hide anything. He slouched in bitter defeat... but was also a little confused. "How do you know that?"

The girl dwelled on that for some seconds, savoring the threads of horror across his azure build - but also somewhat appreciating the obvious remorse in his tone. After which, she breathe deeply and said: "Frankie told me."

The horror in Bloo's face was instantaneous. "_What_? But, how can--"

But his puzzlement was cut off by another question; this time from Mac, who'd regained the courage to speak. "Goo - is _that_ the reason Frankie snapped?"

And this time, Goo responded quickly. "Nope. It's only one of them."

- - -

"Seven-o-clock _morning_?"

The giant being - at least seven-and-a-half feet tall and with the build of two football players - with ape features and multicolored fur frowned as he snatched an alarm clock from under the bed and waved it in front of his expressive maroon eyes. It wasn't because the room was way too small for his liking; he actually enjoyed it, particulary the feeling of kingship and his extremely odd(and oddly satisfying) position of his back bent against the pink bed, sprawling his legs across one side and allowing his head to doze snuggly in the other.

It's because things didn't exactly go as expected. _Where the hell is Frankie_?

Indeed; her absence was very puzzling. Whether that matriach lady chose to punish her or whether she got off, surely she would have eventually come here... the ape was so confused that he had to take a few good looks to confirm that, yes, he was _still_ in the bedroom of that poor redhaired girl.

It took a few more moments before he also remembered his whole plan. Well - not really a plan; he was simply waiting for her to arrive so he could continue screwing around. But she didn't. He examined the alarm clock again. _So I fell asleep_? It was indeed what happened, but it was also odd: the door was left unlocked, and he blared some rock 'n roll through an old Sony CD walkman with headphones that miraculously fit his large head - he realized he was still clutching it with the other paw.

_Well, I never liked The Offspring that much anyway_. He sprang open the player, chucked away their latest CD and sprung to his feet... only to collapse back down some seconds later, this time next to what was a messy pile of CD jewel cases, all of which he'd carelessly knocked from the plastic tower holders.

A toothy smile quickly enveloped on him. The ape was still captivated by the redhead's musical taste, and found her selection of those one-of-a-kind artists to be amongst the best he'd seen from anybody. The one that caught his eye, however, happened to have a rather distinctive black-and-white drawing of a young man and woman with sunglasses, with text on the upper-right explaining things in a comic-book like form. He was a little puzzled: Sonic Youth was not exactly punk rock.

And he was reminded of a different girl entirely.

Goo.

That girl. _That infernal girl_, the being thought angrily as he slumped back onto his awkward position on the bed, though this time with the CD on his hand, yet memories of a hyper little girl flashing into his mind. He was not a follower of Sonic Youth or similar "overly pretentious" bands like them, but he was not surprised when he flipped to the back of the CD case and saw that the tracklisting also had a song with the album's title in it. More specifically and chillingly appropiately: _My Friend Goo_.

Ah, yes. His friend.

Or_ was_.

The ape was torn. One side of him wanted to throw away the CD case and forget that sniveling hag ever existed, not wanting to suddenly deny himself of the fun he's had ever since she left his life-- but his other, dangerously curious side won out: he opened the case, popped the disc into the player and fit the headphones across his ears--and skipping right to the aforementioned titular song.

_Pretty good_, he thought. As the song began, he shut his eyes and began thinking of the girl.

He was quite surprised at how the lyrics matched with her. Not exactly, of course, but he nonetheless pictured her as it went, sometimes producing funny images: Goo playing drums, wearing green underwear, lying around the floor, and a crowd of nondescript boys saying "Hey Goo, what's new?", whom he chanted with. He lowered his voice to a mock falsetto and was about to utter the next few words--

When a small but firm hand knocked the headphones from his ears.

Eyes blazing open, he saw her; adorning a frown that, from his upside down view, was a very sick smile.

"Hey, _you_."

- - -

**A/N - Ah yes, the dreaded cliffhanger!**

**I do not own Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends, nor do I own Sonic Youth or whatever other real life things referenced in this chapter.**

**And yes, I regret that I _once again _took long in updating. So I'm just going to say this: I hope to have this story finished by the end of the month. Now, I'm not promising, but I'm STRONGLY HOPING. This story was originally meant to be a one-shot, but has become something far more than I expected. I have plans for other stories and I do not want to spend the entire year focusing on just this one.**

**I can guarantee that I'm nearing the end with this. It has been a great experience for me, as this is my first serious fanfic and has already gone far better than I thought it would've. I send my thanks to everybody who took the time to read and review this, even if you didn't like it(I'll freely admit that it has flaws, and I'm aware that some of the character portrayals are different from that on the show).**

**Once again, see you next chapter!**


	8. Confrontation

It was a repugnant sight. Not the messy state of the room, which by comparison looked like royalty, but the imaginary being that lay cozily on the medium-size bed, it's unconventional bent position covering it near-whole - it's pink clothing covered by the pile of multicolor fur, it's neatly steamed condition ravaged into snaky wrinkles by the massive weight, and it's smooth scent replaced by an extremely unpleasant stench that perfectly matched her's at the moment.

And then Goo's eyes met his face.

It was barely visible from his position. But somewhere, deep within the lowest bowels of her rapidly bleaking heart, there was a pure but numbed sensation that was thankful for such - because what she _did_ see terrified her to nary an end. All she could do was glaze her eyes, withdraw her breathing and lower her voice to a grave rasp.

"..._Karoshi_."

The ape could only chuckle mockingly as he sprung himself into a normal seating position.

"Awww, so I'm no longer your 'special K'?"

Goo did not answer. Her mouth hung fairly wide open for a few seconds, lips softly quaking as they reach for the proper combination of words, because she _wanted _to - but the only thing that arose were desolated hisses so that that they were instantly engulfed into nothingness by the piercing silence that ensnared the room. All the ape's pierced eyes could see was a curiously empty expression.

Noting this, Karoshi leaned in closer, his rear still consuming a very large portion of the bed--

And, quite boldly, allowed his right hand's large index to fiddle with her messy swoon of hair.

"I don't have a problem calling you 'Goldy', even after all that's happened between us recently..." Karoshi said, while taking a good look at the girl's deteoriated features. "Or even the fact that you look like complete shit right now."

Again, Goo couldn't bring herself to respond - but the words this time ignited lines of hellish furor across her pallid face. They didn't intimidate the friend; on the contrary, he derived a sick glee from it.

"Where have you been?" he asked, his face abroad in a wide sneering smile. "And what are you doing here?"

Goo bristled. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Good question," the ape was quick to quip. "I'll just let that redhead babe explain it to you, if she isn't still angry at you for flooding the house with imaginary friends."

Karoshi took a brief blink to wash his sore eyeballs, returning the gaze with a smug face... which quickly deteoriated into a grim scowl when she saw the girl's withering expression contort into an angry glare.

"No. She explained it to me already." Goo said, her tone barely able to suppress the emotion, her nostrils now flooding with seething bursts of air - and her eyes moistening to the point that the ape's body blurred into a nauseating sea of colors. "_Everything_."

"Everything?" Karoshi explain, at last rising from the bed and inching steadfastly onto the child. "What are you talking--"

CRACK.

All of a sudden, Karoshi sprung back to a standing position, his legs wobbling in spaggheti mode, right hand huddling to get a reach of his face--

THUD.

A brief but chillingly potent quake filled the room, causing the spilled CDs to teeter, some of the wardrobe in the locker to wrangle and items in the nearby shelves to collapse, the fur pressing against the floor to shrivel - and the fur on the upper side to arch straightly in fear. With head buried on both of his arms and beefy legs sprawled wide open, Karoshi realized that he collapsed to the floor.

He slowly re-revealed himself, to garner a closer look--

TWACK.

And felt his cheek throb sharply.

When he at last recovered, he cocked his wounded head towards the girl that now stood over him, mouth hanging wide and brimming with profanities; only to clamp right back shut upon seeing the unvarnished anger in her face - which burst into an earsplitting shriek.

"THIS IS YOUR FAULT!"

"What the--"

"YES, IT'S YOUR FAULT! YOU AND BLOOREGARD, FOR WHAT YOU PUT FRANKIE THROUGH! YOU STOLE HER UNDERWEAR AND KNOCKED HER DOWN THE STAIRS! HE CHANGED HER RINGTONE TO BLACK EYED PEAS AND SET THE RECEPTION LOUD!"

"Wait--"

"AND _YOU_ LIED TO MADAME FOSTER SO THAT YOU'D GET OFF FREE AND THAT FRANKIE WOULD GET ALL THE BLAME! THE GIRL, THE POOR GIRL! SHE DOES ALL THE GODDAMN WORK! SHE KEEPS THIS PLACE RUNNING, AND THIS IS HOW YOU TREAT HER? WHAT DID SHE DO TO YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE?"

"Uhh--"

"_BEFORE_ YOU DECIDED TO INVADE THIS BEDROOM AND MAKE HER LIFE MISERABLE! HUH? _HUH_? I KNEW IT! YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF! FRANKIE ISN'T THE REASON WHY LIFE HAS BEEN SO HARSH--IN FACT, SHE'S LONELY JUST LIKE BOTH OF US!"

"Goldy--"

"WHAT HAS BECOME OF YOU? WHAT HAS BECOME OF _US_? YOU USED TO BE MY BEST FRIEND, BUT YOU'VE BECOME A HEARTLESS MONSTER! AND I--"

Very abruptly, the sea of screaming would halt. The ape was barely able to soak in the shock; but nonetheless noticed the sudden streak of blank spoiling her furious expression.

"And I--_I_..."

Goo repeated, but would again trail off, alongside the last rung of echoes. Words stalled her. Her pallid tongue fumbled deep inside, awash in a congested mess of letters and half-baked sentences, struggling to yank out the right words and _say the right things_ - but all that ultimately emanated were fresh lines of tears from her pair of eyes, it's cristal cleariness perfectly contrasting her swarthy face.

She didn't close them. She wanted to, but it was too late - the vision's blurriness subsided, revealing that the ape sat up and stared right back, his face heavied and dark. "And how do you know?"

"I already told you, you dumbbutt." the girl sobbed harshly. "Frankie told me."

"_Frankie_?" Karoshi was very taken aback. "What the hell do you mean?"

Goo allowed a few silent seconds to pass - each one of them further feeding to the hatred that consumed her soul. "You don't have any clue of what's happened, do you?"

With that, she miserably hung her head, gazing onto the floor; it's messy status symbolizing the current state of her affairs. It was hopeless. The shadow grew and the vision darkened. _Just perfect_, Goo thought as she braced for what she knew was going to be the fatal blow--

And instead heard, quite simply and sadly: "No, I don't."

"..._what_?"

Goo processed those last few words through her mind, recalling his voice. And completely different it was. Rough, shaky, dreadful; so sincere and so, so... so _remorseful_?

Numbed, her head hurried upwards to meet the gaze of her imaginary friend. Doing so would only serve to stun her even more.

Everything she previously saw of Karoshi was non-existant, and all preconceived notions swirling her mind were shattered: his fist wasn't clamped tightly shut in anger, they were wide open - the tip of his plump fingers quivering in fear. He wasn't on a firm offensive position, as if about to attack savagely; he slumped and cowered to the point that he was now kneeling, to stare into his creator. His eye was gashed in purple and his facial fur flatted onto the skin, revealing a crimson throb - but these wounds were negigible compared to the deep frown and psychological scarring his expression now heavily bore.

"Goldy," he said. "I suppose you're going to tell me what happened...?"

Goo didn't respond for a while. She was, to put it shortly, shocked. Her spirit(and lungs) still reeling from the vicious verbal tirade she just doled, she lingered on Karoshi's suddent change of heart, trying to make some sense-- but after some seconds, she just quietly gave up, and exposed her fountain eyes to the ape--

And dropped it back down, and exhaled a very, very heavy sigh. Afterwards, she recited the entire tale as briefly and as directly as she could: "Frankie snapped. She attacked Mr. Herriman, slapped Madame Foster, and broke into a vicious tirade against the rest. I've never seen so much outright fury in my life. She wasn't just a little ticked off, Karoshi - she was a _demon_."

"I arrived with Mac at the entrance right in the midst of it. I experienced it all: I saw the anger, heard the screams, smelled the tension, tasted the panic - and felt the hatred as she, in front of nearly a hundred others, had the gall to call me a 'stupid retarded girl'."

"I ran to the nearest empty I could find, curling myself to the covers of the bed, and spent much of the night crying like the little insipid, pathetic, friendless loser I was... or the insipid, pathetic, friendless loser I _thought_ I was. You see--Mac has been there for me, the whole time. His presence, ever since I've arrived here, has been a blessing. He saw me for whom I actually was; he convinced me to stop making so many imaginary friends, and for me to stick around for what I thought would be my new friends in life. He was there as I cried on that guest room... and he convinced me that Frankie wasn't such a bad person."

"And so, I left the confines of the room and went to look for the girl. It took a while; I checked as much of this place as I possibly could without getting caught by the other residents, but she was nowhere to be found. So eventually... I left the house. I ventured directly into the harsh rain, with an umbrella taken from the house. And there she was. She hid in a public bus; ill, weakened, battered. And _crying_."

"I felt very bad for Frankie; so much that my heart instantly forgave her for what she did earlier. In the hours leading to sunrise, the two of us were engaged what I'd call a seesaw of emotions: I would be crying and Frankie would be comforting me one moment, and I'd be the one comforting her the next. Amidst it, she'd tell me what really happened that afternoon, as well a bit about her life in general. And I'd tell her about myself in return."

"Eventually, I convinced her to return to Foster's. We returned to the house in the morning; we met with Herriman and Madame Foster in the office. The meeting wouldn't last very long before, out of sheer exhaustion and stress, Frankie collapsed into unconsciousness. With nary a word, they loaded her onto their personal car and hurried to the hospital. Left behind, I chose to visit her bedroom."

The only thing that stirred sonically across the room at this point was Goo's voice - itself weak, brittle and muted. The silence left in it's wake was proverbially loud. Karoshi sat back on the bed, eyes staring contemplatively onto the girl's eyes for a little while, vulnerable and grizzled all at once.

At last composing some words in his mind, the ape opened his mouth to speak--

But the girl's voice arose first. "And that's where we are at the moment," and her tone went utterly fatal. "Kinda reminds you of somebody else we used to know, huh?"

Goo turned her back on her imaginary friend, head still stretched to lay a half-glance. "And if you're still wondering, I came here to see if I could find something pertaining to Frankie's past... but never mind." With that, she left through the opened door in a huff.

_Somebody else we used to know_. These last few words denied Karoshi from responding with anything beyond a shocked whisper: "_Marvin_."

- - -

"I heard screaming coming from Frankie's room," a breathless Mac said as he brushed into Goo across the nearby hallway. "Is everything okay?"

Right next to the boy was the azure blob named Bloo; his once smugly sarcastic self searing with genuine guilt. "If I haven't said it yet; I'm sorry. I _really_ didn't intend for my prank to go thzt far--"

Goo raised a gentle but firm hand, silencing both of them. "I'm alright. "I just want to be alone for a while."

Mac was surprised. "Alone?"

"In the guest bedroom. I'm very tired, Mac. Not just physically; but from everything that's happened in the last twelve hours." she sighed. "I need to get a nice, long sleep... and an even longer cry."

- - -

**A/N - Yeah, quite a bit shorter than you were probably expecting... but that's how this chapter demanded to be. Next one will be quite a bit longer. At last, I've FINALLY reached the point in which I'll dwell on Goo's past. BUT that won't last long; like I said, there are only a few chapters left.**

**And in that case--I'm planning to post a new story which will be a companion to this one. Since this story is told from Goo's POV(Chapter 4 was essentially Frankie TELLING Goo what happened), the upcoming one will be from Frankie(As well as Mr. Herriman and Madame Foster)'s POV and will pick off from their departure to the hospital. That's all I'll say for the moment.**

**See you next chapter!**


	9. Marvin

_Somebody else we used to know_.

A chill ran up and down Karoshi's spine. Not a quick burst; a thick, prolonged, stone-cold chill. It took a few minutes for the imaginary ape to recover from the initial shock, at least long enough to rise to his feet and leave the plighted redhead girl's bedroom - when the thought haunted him again. And again. And again, and again and again. It was embedded to him unrequitedly yet magnetically; like sharp nails repeatedly scraping at his rapidly deteoriating core.

His name. Six letters, two syllables, one person. By god, his name--

_Marvin_.

It had been a long time - over a year - since the bastard last crossed his mind. But when it did, the memories clicked into place just like yesterday. And here, clicking into place meant that they reopened the emotional wounds he believed had finally healed by his absence--from his _existence_.

Karoshi tried to ignore him by thinking back to other things; Goo Goo Gaga herself. He thought about the good times they had so many years earlier, rolling around the grass, looking at each other's innocent and carefree faces, completely devoid of all the division that has developed. How he loved and adored her back then. He did this repeatedly... and everytime, one way or another, found himself drifting back to just moments ago.

Oh, how he hated and despised her now.

"That bitch... that_ bitch!_" The ape fumed as he stomped across the nearby hallway, replacing his dread with a trademark scowl. She was just lying. He'd seen that irritatingly convincing pained glare and heard that supposedly fracture tone before. And he, at least briefly, just had to fall for it _again_ by acting uncharacteristically mature on her presence, instead of just giving her the smackdown that had become oh so long overdue. She just...

Walking down the stairway, he brushed into an azure oval and a pile of chestnut brown fur. Karoshi shrugged and continued on; but sensed that they were moving. Turning back to face them, he realized that they were not objects but actual people; one of them an imaginary friend and the other his apparent creator.

"Bloo!" he exclaimed with a toothy grin, recognizing the blob instantly... and gave his young companion a sneering glare. "Liam Gallagher in midget form? Your band sucks!"

The child was not amused. "Mac. The name's _Mac_."

"Ahhh," Karoshi replied. "In that case, I hope you lay off the McWhoppers, bucko!"

He followed those words with another giggle, resting his giant rear on the tip of the handle, about to slide down-- when he felt the child's arm tugging at his fur.

"Karoshi," Mac said, with very plain anger. "We need to talk."

"Talk?" the ape scratched his head mock-innoculously. "So your mother still hasn't told you about the birds and the bees? Oh, you sad thi--"

"Very funny." the boy snapped. "For your information, I know what happened. Goo told me everything that happened... what you did to Frankie yesterday afternoon."

"And for _your_ information," Karoshi replied smugly-- and then he realized exactly what the human had just said. "Wait just a goddamn--"

And all of a sudden, Mac's venomous scream filled their eardrums, causing Bloo to pull back a few inches and Karoshi to flinch against the railing.

"THAT WAS LOW, YOU JERKFACE--_VERY_ LOW! FRAME HER SO THAT SHE'D GET UNJUSTLY PUNISHED AND YOU'D GET OFF FREE? I DON'T BLAME FRANKIE FOR WHAT SHE DID! IT'S YOUR FAULT THAT SHE SNAPPED! IT'S YOUR FAULT THAT THE ENTIRE HOUSE IS CURRENTLY ENDURING THIS ORDEAL! YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED!"

It was a good thing they were the only ones in the hallway, because the silence afterwards was very tense... for Bloo. Karoshi just leant back against the wall with beefy arms proudly spread behind his head, adorning a shiny smile.

"Yes indeedy-o," he remarked. "It's also my fault that prejudice still exists, wars are still fought and Metallica haven't made a half-decent record since the Black Album."

A swelling of fury arose inside of Mac - one that quickly suppressed and choked into a speechless, hopeless gag. "_You_..."

"Shaddup." Karoshi simply ignored his anger and motioned towards the blob. "Yo, Blooregard, let's ditch this joint before you also start believing his bullshit."

He was one floor lower - still within eyeshot - when he realized Bloo hadn't budged an inch. "Hey, what are you...?"

Karoshi froze when he saw the utter blankness in the azure friend's face, his eyes narrowed and lips barely opened.

"No," Bloo simply said. "Goo's right."

_What_? The ape was aghast. "Don't tell me--"

"I was there, Karoshi." the blob said. "What Goo told us, about what happened after the prank we pulled on Frankie, while you were gone--_I was there_. I _saw it happen myself_."

Karoshi rolled his eyes. "You too, huh?"

"No, you unsanctimonius punk," Mac spat, his heart as dark as the clouds. "_You're_ the one that's mistaken."

Sighing antsily, Karoshi opened his mouth to speak again-- but before he got the chance, Mac simply stormed down the stairway. "_Screw this_," was all he muttered as he vanished from sight.

"Pfft, screw _him_." the ape sneered, before turning back to the blob. "You up for a couple rounds of Halo?"

But Bloo did not respond at all. He simply gave him a blank glare, and then fled through the stairs to follow his disillusioned creator's path.

Karoshi himself would take a while to speak, opting to lean against the wall with a twinge of shock. He wasn't surprised to see that dweeb of a boy act the way he did, especially considering that he was apparently becoming very good friends with Goo... but _Bloo too_? Was something going on; something he wasn't aware of? Was the girl _actually right_. The thought frightened him, hardened his face, scrunching him with wrinkles of genuine worry--

For a few seconds. Afterwards, he gave another atypical shrug. _Meh, blobby never seemed all that bright either_.

Feeling more assured, he set down the stairs away, although heading to the direction opposite of the azure friend and his creator, and then heading down all the staircases he could see until he reached the floor level, with a smile. Clearly, he had nothing to worry about.

- - -

Now standing at the heart of the not-so-empty entrance foyer, the expression of worry returned to his face. And this time, they were going to be a little more permanent.

Clearly, he _did_ have something to worry about.

The gaggle of imaginary friends that erratically occupy his surroundings had a variety of reactions to his presence; from disgust to revulsion and fear to fury, some stopping cold in their tracks and others picking up the pace to rid themselves of his sight as soonly possible. None of them were terribly kind... and all of them seemed to indicate towards the same signs.

Karoshi shrugged it off again. It worked... for a few seconds, and then the same unsettling sensations returned to bother him. He tried it again; and the margin_this _time was less than a single second, before the thought returned to him. And again, and again and again. It was as if it were embedded to him magnetically, as if sharp nails continued to chip away at his core--

His body. Chocolate dark hair with tinges of grey, lips as thin as a razor and a presence that resembled a living zombie. By god, his name--

_Marvin_.

He thought he'd finally gotten him out of his mind; the last few minutes went by without the bastard crossing his mind. But when it did, the memories clicked back into place, like they never left in the first place. And clicking back into place meant that they harmed wounds which had nary a chance to heal.

"That asshole... that _asshole_!" He muttered to himself; not exactly a scream, but loud enough for anybody nearby to notice. To his relief, he was now walking through the living room area area, which was oddly empty... with the exception of a female beaked bird-plane thingy, which sat on the sofa.

"Hey, Yoshi!" Karoshi said with an attempt at sarcasm, somewhat shaky considering the slight tremble in his tone. "Having a bad fashion day or something?"

The imaginary friend narrowed her eyes. "Co-co."

"Coco? That your name? Ok," the ape inquired, making his way to the empty spot in the sofa. "If you don't mind--"

"Yo _si_."

Before he had a chance to sit, he felt a large figure loom to his side. It was a beast-like imaginary friend, highly comparable to him in size and fur, but also carrying huge bony horns across his nose, with a face of genuine innocence--which hardened into anger as he bore into the ape.

"That seat is _mio_," he snarled.

"And Donkey Kong?" Karoshi said. "Yeesh, is this a house for imaginary friends, or Nintendo char--"

And the beast creature stomped his feet on the ground, causing a brief but sufficient quake. "MY _NOMBRE_ IS EDUARDO!"

"Ahhh then," Karoshi chuckled very nervously. "I guess I'll just leave," and he instantly tried to hurry away from the two of them--but felt the beast's meaty hand clasp at his shoulder and halt him from moving.

"YOU MEANY! TU ERES BIG MEANY!" he cried out. "POBRE SENORITA FRANKIE! WHAT DID SHE DO? DIOS, YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED!"

The silence afterwards was twice as long as his short but infuriated outburst. Coco crouched herself on the sofa's edge, a rare instance in which she protected herself from the very being that usually cowers from the others. Karoshi looked a little taken aback... for a few seconds, and then rolled his eyes.

"Oh, never mind," Karoshi turned his back on the two imaginary friends to leave; though this time he did a double-take to ensure he wouldn't be pestered... but saw that Eduardo instead simply chose to slunk defeatedly onto the sofa, his large eyes welling with tears.

"TE ODIO!" he said, more choked than furious, and then buried his hands on his face. Coco approached the beast friend and patted him across his wide back. "Co-co, co-co..." she said comfortingly; and then turned a very venomous glare to the ape. "CO-_CO_!"

By the time she finished, Karoshi already left from their sight. "Whatever, Eddie."

- - -

More imaginary beings, more dirty glares. Though this time, they were less frightened and far more angered; some of them had clenched fists and carried murderous expressions, as if they were about to just snap and knock the ape out cold - and some of them _really_ did - but they ultimately held back. His huge stature was too much for them to handle.

As usual, Karoshi just ignored all of them, and focused on where he was now: the outside yard. It's scenery wasn't the sickly vivid orchestra of colors he'd been expecting; it was in fact the exact opposite. The grass was beat flat on the soil, the terrain's once sparkling green embittered with a thick grey, with all sorts of insects infesting and feeding on the remnants. Taking a closer look, such setting actually brought upon a smile to his grizzled face.

For a few seconds. And then it happened. His woozy little mind raced to make sure otherwise, but too late. It was tied to him magnetically, with the sharp nails returning en masseto further scrape away at his core.

His self. Bleak, brooding, a glint of playfulness repressed by his thoroughly dark and grey exterior. By god, his name--

_Marvin_.

He wouldn't leave his mind. He _wouldn't_ leave. The bastard was on the verge of finally escaping his thoughts; then he's reminded, again. And again, and again and _again_. And when it did, the bare-open wounds were aggravated, adding fresh layers to his gritted suffering.

It was a good thing the present crowd somewhat thinned while all this occured, because Karoshi now because so furious that both of his hands curled into hammy fists, and his mouth agape with vitriol. "AGH, DAMMIT, GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" He threw a left, right into the empty air--

And, just barely, pulled it back in time, before it could connect with a tall imaginary friend with scarlet stitching and a pair of strawlike eyes over his oval head.

"Karoshi!" he exclaimed, while both of his uneven arms were wound tightly behind his back. "I've been looking all around for you..."

Karoshi's mouth cracked wryly open, with hints of a wisecrack towards the fellow named Wilt(probably one pertaining to his dreadful musical taste)... but after a moment and much struggling, nothing arose. Nothing; except a very annoyed sigh. "What do you want, stalk eyes?"

"It;s about Goo," he said. "Do you know where she is?"

"I..." Karoshi stammered innocently in reaction... and then the full thunder of the question hit him. _Where was Goo_? He knew. Of course he knew where the girl was; he just _saw_ her. Most likely, she was bawling her eyes in the guest room, with Mac and Bloo for company. That wasn't the matter. The matter was whether he wanted to tell that complete dork of an imaginary friend where she was. And, more importantly to him, why did he want to know?

He braced to respond with a blatantly misleading "no" - when the tall friend spoke again.

"I just got off from a very important call in Mr. Herriman's office," he said, his gaze darkening. "It's a woman named Mrs. Goodman. She claims to be Goo's mother... she says that the entire family is very concerned that Goo didn't turn up early last night as expected."

"Well then," Karoshi scoffed. "Why didn't they come here?"

"They _would've_ were it not for the weather." Wilt said. "They said that they're now coming to pick her up."

"Oh, swell then."

Karoshi spun to dive back into the withered scenery - when he was thunderstruck again. And this time, being thunderstruck meant that a smile iron-gripped his face, so big and so wide that they seemed to almost stretch back past the considerably thick confines of his mug.

They were coming to pick her up. Yes, _they_. Her _parents_.

At last. No more Goldy, at long fucking last. No more Goldy.

Karoshi processed those magic words again: _No more Goldy_.

To comprehend the genuine joy surging his venomous ire would be overlong. All that needs to be said is that it took the third time of contemplating that most joyful of thoughts for him to do something that was completely uncharacteristic of him: seize the tall imaginary friend by the scruff and wrap his skinny frame across those arms for a prolonged and genuinely affectionate bearhug.

"Oh, thank you THANK YOU THANK YOUUUUU!" Karoshi was, very much literally, hopping up and down with the joy of a sugar-crazed little boy, taking a confused Wilt along with him. "FINALLY, I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THAT BLASTED LITTLE GIRL TO--"

_GET OUT OF MY GODDAMN LIFE AND CRAWL BACK TO THE HELLHOLE IN WHICH SHE WAS SPAWN! _howled inside him, about to burst from his ever eager lips - but just in the nick of time, he realized better. Instead, he put the friend down, straightened himself into a normal pose, and curbed his mighty grin into a faux but convincingly warm smile.

"To return to the safety of her home," he said with a chuckle. "Maaaan, have I been worried! But things seem to be under control, right?"

Wilt did not know what to do except give the blankest of nods. "...oh-kay..."

And with rather peculiar conveniency, a distant but instantly recognizable shrill rang through the foster home's wide-open entrance, reaching well into the outside yard in which the two stood.

"It's the phone again," Wilt said, turning(somewhat relievedly so) his back on the ape friend and facing the sound's direction. "I guess I'll see you later."

Karoshi did not respond to the fellow's last few words as he hurried to re-enter the house, nor did he have much of a chance to do so. And nor did he care. All he could think about was the very thing he'd been longing for, and _thought_ he would get the moment he set foot in this place.

_No more Goldy_.

That thought, that very thought... it made him want to hug others affectionately, dance, kiss, celebrate as if he'd just saved mankind from an all-powerful menace. They made him want to shout, holler, weep for joy, hop around until his legs frizzled and he was left crumpling on the ground; in which afterwards he'd likely roll around with a blonde broad that wore nothing but undergarments that were as big as either of his hands rolled into a fist. Those were fantasies, of course. But to be honest, they were quite meaningless and ancillary with respect to what he'd just accomplished in reality.

_NO MORE GOLDY_.

Nothing could stop him now. NOTHING. All the previous bad memories and painful experiences, just waste about to be purged from him. The so-called wounds were non-existent, just figments of his imagination. And that name... oh yeah, those aforementioned six letters and two syllables which represent that particular dude. Karoshi realized that the name no longer carried a possesive effect on him. Now, he just saw it for how crappy and silly of a name it was. _The Martian? Paranoid Android? _Karoshi thought, leading himself into a raucous laugh. "PLEASE!"

That laugh carried him all the way to the gates which separate the famed mansion and the rest of the world. The continuing sight of the weather's destruction couldn't put a proverbial damper on his joy. Nope, not the bent gates, not the half-destroyed bus, certainly not the umbrella which lay absently on the sidewalk--

And then Karoshi suddenly became very ill.

_The umbrella_. Sleek, black, folded up and so tall that it would completely cover both ends of the path were it to be turned sideways. So simplistic, yet so similar. It was as if... a flash to the past...

And it happened again. Try hard as he might, it was attached to him magnetically, like sharp nails that successfully broke past the outer core--and now moved in for the kill.

His heart. Hollow, clinical, a bastion of goldenness returned to a morsel of vain hope, which further shrank into nothingness the more it remained contained in it's personal prison. By god, his name--

_Marvin_.

Karoshi processed those words again. They reminded him of not some cartoon alien or some depressed android, but a teenager, with a boy's innocousness yet the grayness of an elder, very close and yet so far away--

He wouldn't leave. The bastard just WOULDN'T FUCKING LEAVE. The ape was right about thing; there weren't any emotional wounds... because the _whole_ of his emotional psyche was bare-open in seething red, allowing the scars to dig deep into the blisters, slash open the veins, poison the blood, cripple the bones, reach with five wide-open fingers containing razor-sharp spikenails towards the heart. His name--

_Marvin_.

By god, HIS NAME--

_MARVIN_.

- - -

Wilt was left more than a little uneasy by the second of two consecutive high-priority calls. _A news reporter_? He was very confused by this at first, but upon inquiring some of the fellow residents, he realized that news of last afternoon spread like fire across the local press. And now, _they were coming to ask for further details_?

That fear was confirmed wholesale when, heading through the gate area, he spotted a couple of local news vans pull up on the outside sidewalk, cameras already prepared and reporters trickling out the back with microphones handy. Even more frightening yet, was regarding that particular ape named Karoshi, whom he expected around these parts--but all he saw was the bus, the umbrella, and slight hints of footmarks across the sidewalk's wetness.

- - -

Blur. The faster he ran, the thicker it became. The buildings served a surreal circular backdrop, and the pavement before his feet melted into a rabid stream that flowed through it, up and down with no end in sight. Of course Karoshi didn't slide down it, as he was consciously aware he was still running; but he'd become so numb that it didn't make much of a difference.

He couldn't avoid it, no matter what he did. It was _hopeless_, he knew all too well. But he couldn't stop either. Even though he knew he was going to lose, he didn't want to. He_didn't_.

Voices. They snaked around the back of his head, a pitch perfect assault on the senses, planting memories that he'd struggled hard to forget, memories he thought he ensured would never come back. Memories that were about to come back anyway.

- - -

_"Mom, how..."_

_"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?"_

_"Goldy, Karoshi, I promise you; It won't be for long. A week at best, a couple of months at worst."_

_"How can you do this to Marvin? He--"_

_"--has become too unstable and too much of a threat to himself and this household. I assure you, he is in good hands!"_

_"GOOD HANDS? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? HE WILL BREAK APART THERE IN NO TIME! HE CAN'T LIVE WITH SUCH BRIGHT WHITE COLORS-"_

_"That's exactly what the clinic will be for. They'll help him control his violent tendencies and overcome all of those other urges of him, until he becomes a normal and calm person. Until then, he's too dangerous to reside with the rest of the world--"_

_"But, Mom..."_

_'How can you? HOW CAN YOU? HAVE YOU NOT HEARD ANY OF THE STORIES? THOSE BASTARDS WILL NOT HELP MARVIN, THEY WILL UTTERLY AND COMPLETELY ABUSE HIM UNTIL HE'S NO LONGER BREATHING! HOW CAN YOU BE SO HEARTLESS? GOD, YOU'RE SO FUCKING HEARTLESS!"_

_"Karoshi--watch your potty mouth, and stop being so dramatic. Quite frankly, those stories are lies. We know what we're doing, and it will be for the better. It WILL be for the better..."_

- - -

His heart. Still hollow, still clinical. But the morsel of hope was no more. The prison itself was decayed, long devoured and chewed on by the earthworms.

His self. Still bleak, still brooding. But there was no hint of playfulness left. The dark and grey was now just that.

His body. The chocolate dark went grey, the grey went white, and the white poofed into nonexistence. The lips were gone, now just two uneven gaps on the jaw. He resembled a zombie... but he wasn't living, nor was he breathing.

It took a very, very long time for Karoshi to uncork himself from his cowering fetal position on the rank-smelling mound of dirt, take in an earnest breath, and stare boldly towards the source of the shadow that haunt his body. The rest of the surrounding he suddenly located himself in didn't matter. All he cared about was what lay in the front.

It was a rusty plaque inscription on the floor, which read:

_**Marvin K. Goodman**_

_**August 11, 1988 - November 3, 2004**_

_Marvin K. Goodman_. His name.

He was dead.

- - -

Thunder roared distantly but nonetheless noticeably up in the surrounding hills, empty except for a brief sampling of small wooden houses. Lightning soared in all it's bitter might, burning past the thick gathering of clouds and striking fear upon anybody near. After a brief period in which it was believed the sun would beam brilliantly after a harsh night, it was proved to be a fluke; Wilson Way was doomed to more of Mother Nature's gloom.

Rain. Tiny, scattered, faint at first. But they grew. Grew slowly, from novice to intermediate, like a gradual crescendo--until the orchestra reached it's peak, an army of drops which assailed the earth with nary a twinge of mercy, turning what was an already weak soil into a thick puddle of mud, with the tombstones and crosses essentially serving as flotsam.

But the water Karoshi was concerned with at the moment wasn't the rain. It was something else entirely, from a different source: not from the heaven's epic scope, but from the aftermath of his shattered core. No matter how much they pounded at his sizeable frame and beat even the longest specks of his fur hair onto skin level, they couldn't dim the scathe of the lines that strolled down his face, sheltered only by the collective set of ten fingers, clasping tightly to one another and pressing onto it.

He was crying.

And more than that--

He felt _guilt._

"Why..."

Karoshi did not know how much time had elapsed, nor did he care about how more he would allow to pass. All he knew was that he sat on a nearby pillar - just as barely able to rise above the puddle as it was to support the size of his rear - weeping copiously into the negligible comfort of his two hands. All he cared about was the traumatic past, the broken present--the nonexistent future.

Goldy. Not Gail Goodman, not Goo Goo Gaga; to him, it was _simply_ Goldy. But that didn't really matter now. All of these names led his train of thought to the same focus of attention... the little girl who gave him birth through the power of imagination; her _original_ imaginary friend...

He loved her. That was all there was to it. He **loved** her, with equally the sincerity of the spring breeze and the ferocity of a thousand suns. All of these things he did, from his very conception, for good or ill--he did it for her. He did those things with _her_ in mind. He wanted to craft a better future for him and her, especially after the untimely death of Marvin.

Oh, yeah: Marvin. Eldest son of the Goodman family, big brother of Goldy, his own surrogate brother by default... he loved him too. There would be no use denying it now. He only wanted to live a good life with both of them. He didn't want it to end like this. He didn't want Marvin to die, or Goldy's friendship to fall apart, or for him to be sent to some nuthouse for imaginary friends, and thus--

Karoshi recalled those words; vaguely distant yet painfully fresh.

_Somebody else we used to know_.

A chill ran up and down Karoshi's spine. But he didn't think of Marvin.

This time, he thought of a redhead girl.

_Frankie_.

Karoshi shut his eyes - or rather clamped them down even harder, as they were already closed - struggling to develop a coherent image of her. Bleeding reds and light greens were all that appeared in front of him, but slowly the fogginess receeded at the same time it began to take shape. As they did so, he contemplated what Goldy last told him. Had a breakdown? Slapped that old granny lady, docked that jackass of a rabbit? Singled out Goldy for _personal_ _insult_? Even now, such things seemed to be simply ridiculous, and he wasn't in a position to--

And then the image of the girl finished forming.

He saw it. Not a lazy blur, but as clear as light and yet bleak as the dark. Obviously, it was just a thought and not actually happening; but he endured the pain, saw the horror, sniffed the tension, heard the screams. He felt _everything_.

_Somebody else we used to know_.

That second chill was reckoning time. The time, that at last, with a taste of deep sorrow and bitterness, he realized... Goldy was right.

That girl, that poor girl... no; poor both of them. Girl _and_ boy. Marvin... and Frankie. They...

SNAP.

SPLAT.

Mud spread all around Karoshi, filling his sight with brown and literally engulfing the cusp of his eyeballs in it's thick moistness--drilling him with pain on every tip of his body, like a needle entering an ear and going all the way until exiting through the underside of the index toenail. And his body was weak, though not completely so, as he still had enough energy in both of his arms. He fell, suddenly and harshly. He could just pull himself up this instant, and rise back to his feet.

But he didn't. Both arms just wallowed deep in the mud, along with the rest of his body. He didn't pull himself up because he _did not deserve to_.

So, Karoshi would simply lay there. The deep layers of brown overtook the multicolor tinges of his fur, his arms eventually lost all strength,the mud became firmly engraved onto his eyes--and then began to seep deeper inside. All the while, he felt his body shrink and his breathing stall... and then lost all sense; everything faded to an absolute black...

- - -

_Karoshi..._

A voice. Whose it was, what kind, even what tone, he didn't knew. All he knew that it was his own name, and that_ somebody_ called for him.

_Karoshi..._

The ape arose, eyes still held shut. He budged his body slowly, expecting to sense the might of his makeshift burial--but it was nowhere to be seen. The mud was gone. His body was set loose, free of everything except gravity itself... in this case, an oddly comforting bed which actually seemed suited to his massive frame.

_Karoshi..._

And his eyes opened. His first surprise was that they were no longer steeped in the brown, and that the pain which overtook him was gone. In fact, his suffering hadn't simply left; he felt as good as new; as if he could hop up and down all day and still remain at his physical peak.

Which led to his second, far more substantial surprise: he was no longer in the cementary.

Instead, he was in some medium-sized room, unknown and familiar at the same time. Unknown, because he obviously hadn't been here before. He could tell that it was an infirmary of sorts; but it lacked the clinical, stark whites of general hospitals. It gleamed with colorfulness, though in a way that indicated this was more of an unique place than a pediatrician's place.

Familiar, because the features and setting narrowed the possibilities in his mind to one: Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends.

He was so wrapped up into the surroundings, that it was an utter surprise when he learnt the identity of the very voice that spoke his name: a young redhead woman wearing an emerald hoody and purple skirt.

"Hey, Karoshi," she spoke, not with rage or bitterness; but with a kind smile. "How are you doing?"

- - -

**A/N - Just a reminder; since Karoshi is Goo's imaginary friend, this technically does NOT contradict my statement that this story is told from Goo's perspective. The final scene takes place some days later--which means it's chronologically after _Precious_, and thus Frankie's back at the house by then.**


	10. Second Chances

It was not the exactly the easiest moment for the imaginary friend. Everything had a somber air, from something as small as his woozy eyes racing around the room's trappings, or the dead-as-night stillness of his legs set loose below the edges of the infirmary-like bed--to the realization that Miss Frances "Frankie" Foster was staring him down, her eyes unflinchingly wide and direct.

She placed her scrubbing mitt on the nearest desk, allowed what looked like an empty bucket to clank with the floor, and, finally, hunched herself onto the bed, without ever parting from her gaze. "Hello?"

The ape named Karoshi did not respond immediately. In fact; he had scarcely budged from his trance-like state since noting her presence... yet the inside of him was the exact opposite, seething with energy and fire that beckoned to explode right out of him. All that was visible, however, were spastic ticks that were as infrequent as they were bizarre.

Frankie was quick to notice this. She laid both of her arms across the friend's huge figure, and shook away with all her skinny might. "Karoshi...?"

He tried; to piece together what was going on, to find the right words with which to respond. It danced on the uttermost tip of his tongue, it's pinky toes circling around and poking down, teasing and numbing him at the same time; while his mind drowned in a hodgepodge of memories that spanned many years ago to _right now_--

The only thing to result, in the end, was him collapsing backfirst onto the bed.

He couldn't.

Silence. The nearby footsteps died down, just as all birds swooping through the window's afternoon view stopped chirping. Whether such actually happened or was just a self-created illusion, Karoshi didn't care. The energy inside him suddenly sputtered. All he did was stare wholesale onto the ceiling. It's blossom pink hue, sparkling yet not-overly-so, and with an unnaturally pleasant scent that just barely reached his nose... all he thought about, right now, was...

And then it came to him, so bluntly and forcefully, that he shot up with nary a warning to his feet.

Her name... Goo Goo Gaga--

_Goldy_.

The words were now within reach of his mouth. Before he did so however, his eyes moved around to find a particular redhead girl... but before he could finish, he felt those familiar hands claw fiercely into his skin, towing him down an inch or two. Before either of them knew it, they were staring at each other.

"Augh," Frankie huffed, dusting the sleeves of her hoody as she stood up(Apparently having been dragged along). She directed a somewhat stern gaze towards the ape. "Karoshi, I really hope this isn't--"

That was all she could manage to say before being seized by both of the ape's paws. Not maliciously or menacingly, of course; but desperately.

He spoke unornamentaly. "Goldy."

Frankie was confused. "Goldy?"

Karoshi stalled for a few tense seconds--and gave a somewhat embarrassed shake of the head. After which, he spoke again. "Goo... where is she?"

Somewhat to his surprise, the young woman didn't take very long to respond. "She's still in the backyard, last I checked. She's really been playing around the house a lot, with Mac and the friends."

That was it. All he needed to hear. Forget about Mac and forget about all those imaginary friends. Not only did the iron clench that gripped his heart vanished, but all of the wounds caused by it healed. Karoshi soon realized, even more to his surprise--he was smiling. _Smiling_.

Alright. Goldy was unharmed, to-be-seen, healthy.

She was _alright_.

Karoshi slumped onto the bed again, this time without the redhead's extra weight--and this time with clear happiness. Words couldn't describe just how overwhelmed with happiness he was, just like how he didn't quite know how to express it. All that could be said was that he seized the bed's pillow, and fiercely hugged and even kissed it as if it were Goo herself. Joy, joy, joy. JOY! That was all he cared about. That was all he _thought_ about, for god knows how long.

And then another sensation overcame him. Neither painful nor pleasant, just neutral. Webs developed across the cracks of his brain, filling him with confusion at every turn...

He arose yet again, turning to Frankie with mouth open and loaded with questions aplenty--

But before he could mention even a word, she already began to answer them.

"It's been almost a week. Your body was found by the cemetery's undertaker hours after you fell unconscious. You were taken to the local hospital in which grandma and Mr. Herriman took me..." And she paused, to lay a quiet hand on Karoshi's paw--lifting his gaze and, at long last, creating eye-contact between both of them. "You were transferred to the very room in which I was."

The impact of these words, shell-shocking on their own, were muted in comparison to the fact that he was feeling the lady's heavenly smooth fingers race through his fur(and swearing that they moved about in a playful manner)... his eyes became a deep blank. "Huh?"

Frankie ignored that response, instead allowing her mouth to curl into a smile. "I was supposed to be in the hospital for a week or two, but I healed much faster than the doctors expected, so I only remained for two days. _You_..." And, suddenly and without warning, her smile burst into a full sunshine. "Well, we decided to take you back here so _I _could nurse you back to health."

"But how--"

That was all Karoshi could manage to say before the full extent of those words thunderstruck him. His face slumped as the cusp of both shoulders arose, deliberately trying to bury the swirl of confused expressions from the lady's attention... he sighed, shook a little, both hands tightened, and looked on the verge of breaking down--

And then felt something soothing land on his right fist. It was a hand; soft, graceful, feminine--

_Frankie_'s hand.

The fists loosened back into a pair of fizzled fingers, resting peacefully on the bed's sheet for some seconds... and then crawled into the caretaker's warm lap. Before he even knew it, his entire body hunched down like the wounded beast--and leant feebly towards the shadow that the lady cast. Even with his eyes clamped shut(And rapidly moistening) and all other senses numbed, he could easily sense the contemplative humming as her beautiful face loomed overhead... and her hand was no longer contacting with his.

Instead; it gently stroked upwards, fiddling with the multicolored specks on his arm, rasping with his sweaty rock-hard chest, and half-circling across his neck's thick frame--and then curling her entire arm across it, in a very affectionate way.

"You feel very guilty right now. I can easily tell that..." Frankie said, her mouth beginning to frown thinly into the ape's earlobe. "But, guess what? _I_ feel guilty too. Goo does. Grandma, Herriman, as well as Mac and the residents--_everybody_ feels some sort of guilt and responsibility about what happened." she paused briefly, allowing hints of happiness to stream across her lips. "Since you've been unconscious in the meantime; if it makes you feel any better, things are back to normal now."

Karoshi felt the lady's hold tighten; something he did not at all try to reject... because he savored and enjoyed it. He _liked _it; just as he liked now fully resting on her knees, or that she told him that things were OK now, and that Goo was--

_Goldy._ She was somewhere in this place, this very instant.

He arose to his feet, once again, and spoke to Frankie in a very quick spurt: "Can I go see Goldy--err, Goo? Even for a brief moment?"

His rabid movements eventually caused the woman to lay flatly against the bed. Karoshi felt his heart somewhat sink, expecting a gruff response... and then became as beaming as the brightness in her face. "Take all the time you need."

- - -

Another blur... but this one was completely different. No gloomy grays, no hopeless blacks. No foul stenches or bittersweet tastes. The colors were of vivid blues, shining greens and fierce reds. The aroma was invigorating, the actual meal equally delicious. The songs were cheering; the orchestra performing a composition of pure happiness. Victory was everywhere. It assailed all of the senses, not viciously but lovingly.

And the_ memories_.

Karoshi stopped his wild sprinting through the foster home, just briefly to catch his breath. He was fully expecting the wishy-washy tunnel to morph back into one of the many hallways, and the accompanying colors to being imaginary friends, of all size and ages.

That wasn't the case.

Instead, he was taken to a beautiful and endless grass plain. The roles here were instantly evident: Mr. and Mrs. Goodman sat on an isolated table to enjoy the playful ongoings. Marvin stood from a fair distance, akin to a big brother watching over his siblings. And, most important and most _beautiful _of all--two figures frolicked and rolled and hugged with everlasting happiness. An imaginary ape of huge frame, whom happened to be him... and that very girl who, for all intents and purposes, had been the love of her life.

A small side of him wanted to remain, to stand here, or maybe take a seat between the elder Goodmans; and simply watch those cherished memories, of a different time, unfold before him for the second time...

But he instead chose to turn his back on it, and continued to run, and his surroundings reverted back to being those colorful blurs. Those were good memories, no doubt. But they were just that, memories. They were of the _past_. Right now--

They were about to actually occur once again.

- - -

Eduardo was re-enacting the _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy with all of his beloved stuffed dolls, Coco was busy looking over her latest batch of eggs, Wilt practiced football on the other side of the yard as a break from his usual basketball obsession, and Bloo, well, he was not-so-pleased with his multiplayer skills on _Super Smash Bros. Melee_. Mac oddly found himself thankful for all of that, because he'd hate to imagine if any of them saw him lying splat on the grass--hugging with(Or more accurately, being hugged) Goo Goo Gaga.

"Um, Goo..." the eight-year-old paused slightly, pondering if there was a polite way of saying this. "Don't you think--"

Mac trailed off when, yet _again_, he felt his forehead smooched by the girl's overly-eager lips. The first time, he had that irrational fear every young boy had: cooties. The second time, he overcame that fear and instead began to actually enjoy it. The sixth time, it began to lose it's appeal. By the _forty-second_ time...

Goo simply grinned. "Oh, shut up." And before he even had a chance, it became forty-three and forty-four.

For what was probably half-a-second, the boy's body writhed with anger, so much that he could unhesitatingly unclasp his body whole and just run away from that utterly obnoxious girl. He didn't, of course. And he didn't want to. Deep down, he was actually enjoying this almost as much as she was.

At last, the girl's weight pressing onto his body loosened; Goo started leaning sideways. "Okie, time for you to get on top and kiss ME."

"Finally," Mac said with a half-smirk, squirming to the sides and then eagerly planting both of his arms to the sides of Goo's neck, fully expecting the afternoon sun to blast his back--

Instead, he felt an unsettlingly large shadow. His head craned a few inches onto the opposite direction to get a look, but was distracted by the change of expression in the girl's face--one of absolute shock and dread.

"Goo?" Mac inquired, concerned enough that he prodded the chin of her blank face with his finger.

She pointed right behind him. "_Karoshi_."

The two kids were no longer lying comfortably on the grass but instead in a sitting position, their arched positions perfectly corresponding with the rigid shock that govern their souls. The ape was large enough from the perspective of a fully grown adult; the fact that they were children in small bodies - and sitting down as aforementioned - meant that he appeared like King Kong. His maroon eyes glared down on them, masking his feelings into an effectively neutral face, and yet leaving blatant hints that something hid underneath...

Goo was the first to break this uneasy silence. "Mac... leave..."

Mac did not question the brusque way he'd been spoken to. He just stood up and walked away, though not before giving the girl a parting glance--and a very dirty glare towards the infamous ape.

Karoshi did not notice that, and he wouldn't have cared even if he did. His gaze, his attention, his energy--they were all directed to the swarthy girl located in the squat middle of this sea of grassy greens. The same was of Goo to the ape. Their surroundings seemed to be emptied at this point, whether through coincidence or fate... it was only them.

At last, Karoshi placed one knee into the grass--his first step towards sitting down and hunching himself towards the girl's side. He bent his head, so down and so low that he meet her stature.

And he spoke, simply and plainly: "Goldy?"

His eyes did not depart. He was scared and frightened, of course, and preparing for the absolute worst; but his eyes _did not depart_. Karoshi was too willful, and he wasn't going to quit right now. He needed to know, right here and right, if--

Her eyes did not leave. On the contrary, they looked on very approvingly... and her blank mouth curled into a great, wide smile. "Special K."

_Special K_. At last... at long last--

THUD.

One pair of eyes saw the brownish soil beneath the plants, the other stared deeply into the infinity of the sky. One was huge and bulky; the other relatively small and graceful. The one thing in common between the two of them: they hugged, rolled around and held each other as if there were no tomorrow.

Whomever else saw and scoffed at them be damned; right now, just this once--it was just the two of them.

Karoshi felt something moist planted on his cheek, as small in stature as it was big in affection. "I love you, Goldy."

And Goo felt a kiss so big she had to scrunch up her face to not get saliva all over her. "And I love you too, K."

- - -

Night time fell upon Wilson Way. No stormy rain, no chilly rain, no chaos or destruction, just that: a shining half-moon, leading a pack of scattered yet twinkling stars that worked their magic through the azure heavens. The yards were emptied, and the residents were deep in tonight's sleep... except Karoshi himself.

The ape sat on the entrance porch's stair, both of his eyes dwelling across, well, essentially nothing. Everything was dead quiet; even the crickets decided to take this night off. But it was a _good_ quiet; it soothed him, relieved him of the last remaining shrapnels of hurt that accumulated on his soul over the years... he liked the occasional serving of silence, almost as much as he liked the swirl of rock 'n' roll in his ears. And besides, it helped him to clearly focus on that certain little girl, whom he spent the better part of this day playing around with.

It might seem a little odd that they be currently separated like this, him sitting here while she shared the same bedroom with all of her newfound friends. However, Karoshi was actually happy about all that, both about all those other imaginary friends she was soon going to bond with, and - he shuddered a little - the possibility of that chestnut-haired dork being her _boyfriend_... but, very deep down, even with the somewhat seething guilt caused by him still stuck ogling over scantily-clad models, he was happy that her creator had found genuine love.

Though to be honest, those models didn't seem to be very attractive to him these days. Maybe his tastes and preferences were finally growing up. Maybe...

He was unable to finish that line of thought when, somewhat fittingly, a feminine shadow was cast on his back. Even as he accordingly turned his gaze around, he already recognized it--and was not at all surprised upon seeing that familiar reddish ponytail and vulnerably beautiful face.

What _did_ surprise him, as she sat right beside, was how positively delicious she looked on that set of pink pajamas, which seemed to barely fit her already-slender-as-it-is figure. He was just barely able to remove his dirty stare on her, ahem..."chest", so that they would instead meet with her own pair of eyes, as she began to speak. "Hi there, Kelly."

"Hello..." Karoshi responded, somewhat blandly--and then felt himself somewhat stung by seething embarrassment. "Did you just call me--"

Frankie did nothing but giggle. "Alright, alright, I'll call you just K... or maybe _special_ K!"

_Oh, fuckdamnit_.Karoshi slumped with a sigh as he felt the lady's hands ruffled like some overgrown dog--

And then that simple, haunting fact crashed back to him: he was interacting with basically the central character in the ordeal they'd all endured in the last week or so.

The playful mood vanished like a popped balloon. Instead of sagging in irrelevant discomfort, he sagged in a deep, grim depression.

"Look, Frankie..." Karoshi would wholly and sincerely mean the words he was about to speak next: "I'm sorry. I really, really am. Please, just..."

_Leave me alone _danced on his lips, each step a tempting tickle which got him closer to actually uttering it... but he resisted the urge, because he did _not_ want her to go. No, no, no--not right now, as she clung herself dearly close to him, the now loosened hair brushing against the shoulders...

"Goo's been telling me about you," Frankie said, pressing a kind smile on the ape's ears. "She says you're not such a bad person."

**THE END**

**A/N - ...well, not just _yet_. I'm planning to write and publish an epilogue to this, to wrap up some of the loose ends and bring closure.**

**In any case, the actual story is complete. To be honest, I never thought I'd even get past the first few chapters, so this is an accomplishment at least for me. I thank everybody whom decided to devote their time to my sad little fanfic, but I have a few words for those who actually devoted multiple reviews to this:**

**ravengal - I appreciate the compliments on my writing style, as I think this story really helped me flesh it out. It should be interesting to see how it'll affect all of my future works.**

**FullMetalFrankie - Even if copyrights didn't exist, I don't think my story would be worthy of getting turned into an actual book. But thanks for all the praise!**

**Xaldin - I hope you don't hate me TOO much for not giving Karoshi the ass-kicking he admittedly deserved for what he did to my favorite _Foster_'s character, but like you said, I'm the one who chooses how it ends...:P still, I must say I really enjoyed your reviews.**

**And finally,**

**Dude13 - I know you receive enough praise and worship as it is, so I'll try to be earnest: thank you, for reviewing every chapter from the 2nd onwards, and for supporting this story(and Precious... which I'm sad to say is being put on indefinite hold) even despite the plentiful torturous waits you've had to endure for me to update. Next time I write a multi-chapter fic, I'll do what you did with your original story and have AT LEAST a good amount of it written before actually publishing it. You might be disappointed at the complete lack of Frankie/Goo interaction in this final chapter... but the epilogue will more than make up for it.**

**And that's it. The end for my very first story under this account... yet, really, the beginning of my stint with fanfiction. Once I publish that epilogue, I'm taking a bit of a break from writing, at least the month of July. After that, all of my future FHFIF stories will be comedic(Yes, I'm actually capable of such... or at least I think so) or at least lighter in those than this was. My "serious" energies are being taken elsewhere.**

**See you next cha... well, see you later!**

**Voxxyn**


End file.
